Forbidden Desires
by Wildhorses1492
Summary: To desire the daughter of a Telmarine knight, taken in and raised by the Telmarine King out of pity, and a friendship with the girl's dead father… That is foolishness at its highest zenith. To long for a woman far below him in the society of court, it is not possible of a Narnian king. It is not even thought of. He is the Dark King, but can he keep this dark secret?
1. Dark King, Just King, Traitor

**_A Dark King..._**

 _The whole world watches him for what he was, for his betrayal. His siblings watch him because they secretly fear; he can feel it. Though they laugh, sing, dance and rule together, they worry for him. At times Peter tells him he does not even know him as he thought he did. If these words trouble him, he shows it not. He is far more somber than his outspoken, imperious brother– though he is imperious in his own solemn way._

 _His is a far darker world that borders on the edge of Shadow, and those that sense this come to serve him until their death._ _But it is a world altered by the light of redemption._

 _That is what holds the wolves of nightmare at bay: the sacrifice of Aslan the Great Lion. He is called Just, because he knows the darkness of evil and the corruption of chaos better than any of his siblings. He is Just because he knows what should be, but is not, because he was redeemed by a Love far deeper than he could understand in a thousand lifetimes. At times, he is gay and carefree, but when he plunges into despair and shadow, his friends and siblings become at a loss on how to help him, so they must let him slip away from them for a time._

 _His council is unparalleled; Peter could not do without it in times of campaign through the lands or in times of war. His wisdom invaluable; Susan sought it often in matters of the heart and matters of state. His manner in court was calm in the chaos but yet held a sharp dash of mystery; Lucy called him when Telmarines or Calormene visited and she did not know how to cheer or interest them. His judgment was swift but sure; Narnia loved him cautiously because of it, for it gave them prestige and majesty._

 _But no one truly understood him. No one wanted to risk getting close to such an enigmatic figure. His darkness was equal or perhaps more than his light, and it drove many to stand away from him, even his siblings. For, how could those that had not fallen – and never would – understand the one that had? He was not always this way, and he knows it. Having seen the devastation and desolation of war, a living hell that one cannot escape, he was changed._

 _He remembered the first few months and years of his rule, he remembered being inexperienced and childlike, but it feels to him now as if that carefree attitude and childish laughter was a thing that had never belonged to him. He is different, and can never go back; at times he wishes he might, to be a boy again and ease the fear he catches at times lighting deep within his siblings' – Peter's – eyes._

 _He cares for no one, and only those that he spared from a death that should have been, truly love and adore him. His Narnian subjects that he rules over with his siblings upon the Four Thrones honor him by word of mouth and are kind to him, but they are unsure of the boy that became king, that is now a man, who once betrayed his siblings to the Witch. Knowing this deepens his sorrow, realizing he could never be truly loved by these wonderful people because of the foolish actions of a naïve boy._

 _Many have said he is a difficult man to understand, and he leaves it at that. His demons cannot be soothed, and his nightmares plague him at odd hours of both night and day. When Aslan sees fit to visit the palace by the sea, then only does he truly feel unburdened. The life at court, though he is king and the Narnians are not gossiping nobles of his world, is still dangerous and biting. The ambassadors and nobles from other lands care nothing for feelings and emotions, and wait eagerly for some mistake that proves their point that four cannot rule a single country._

 _He has always disregarded this, dismissed it because it is nothing and he is higher than such talk. But when he sees her, he suddenly finds that he is vulnerable to these snarls and growls. Though he is the Black King, the Just King, The Traitor, he is vulnerable. Though it has been said of him that he is incapable of love and true feeling beyond the love of his country, he is not. But to want what you cannot have… that is dangerous._

 _To desire the daughter of a Telmarine knight, taken in and raised by the King out of pity and a friendship with the girl's dead father… that is foolishness at its highest zenith. To long for a woman far below him in the society of court, it is not possible of a Narnian king. It is not even thought of. But can he help who his heart loves? In this dangerous world of glittering crowns, nobles with quick tongues, and words that speak life or deliver death, can he keep this secret?_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I have run dry for now on my Cycle (Suspian is not really working for me at the moment), and I have writer's block on everything else. I'm writing Dark Edmund because I've been wanting to do this for a _long_ time. The first chapters are rather slow, because I'm trying to build up this darker Edmund, but after those, things should get... interesting. **

**Bear with me, this is different from what I've published on FFN, but not some other things I've written. I hope this brings some life back into my other fanfics and re-inspires me to start writing them again. This has no relation to any of my AU Narnia or anything at all.**

 **WH**


	2. It is to be Alone

"I care not if it is said to be undesirable! I ordered you to do it, did I not?" His voice thundered over the large marble room and ornate tapestries of the courtroom of Cair Paravel. His siblings stood behind him, also with dark expressions. The Telmarine ambassador quaked in his kneeling, cowering position at the bottom of the flight of seventeen steps leading up to the Four Thrones.

"But your most regal highness, who am _I_ to tell the Telmarine king he is demanded to leave the borders of Narnia? I am nothing but dust under his boots. It should be better were you and your noble and great sisters and brother to ride out in glory and push him back into Telmar." The man groveled in a way that sickened Edmund. He scowled darkly.

The man looked up hesitantly when he heard the sounds of metal against metal. He quickly ducked his head when he saw black leather boots come into his line of sight. The tip of a sword found its way under his chin; he gasped, and was forced to look up into the dark and wild gaze of the Just Narnian King. Edmund stooped slightly, a cold smiled sliding across his face that sent fear in an icy tremor down the ambassador's spine.

"A kingdom that breeds such foolish people may not have been built in a day, but…" he trailed off, moving his blade until it touched the Telmarine's neck, a light entering his eyes that some might say was the light of death. "I can crush it in one." The tip of his blade drew blood, but the Telmarine did not move a hand to wipe it away as it trickled down his neck and under his collar.

"Y-yes, my L-lord," Damien stuttered in answer.

With a quick flourish that, had it been done by a lesser swordsman, might have decapitated the ambassador, Edmund slid the blade out from under Damien's chin and back into its scabbard. The Just King turned away, his black velvet cape brushing the heels of his boots; head turned partly to toss the words over his shoulder, he said softly with venom in his tone: "Tell Isshiah that, unless he removes his army from our borders, we will destroy him and all that he rules. Do not fail me in this, or I shall find _your_ head first."

"Of course, my Lord, most certainly, my Lord," the man whimpered, scrabbling backwards until he was several feet from the marble steps; he stood quickly.

"Go!" The shout echoed across the great vaulted room. The man turned and fled as a deer does before hunting hounds. Once the Telmarine's boot-steps no more could be heard, Edmund's shoulders slumped, and his head bowed, long dark locks covering his face. He was grateful it had been a closed court, with none but his siblings, a few of the Narnian officers of the military, and Master Tumnus present.

He passed a pale hand across his face weakly, stumbling slightly as he mounted the last few steps to his throne. Susan started and Lucy jerked to her feet as he collapsed back into his throne. He looked up when Peter's shadow covered him. "Yes?" His voice was hollow as he tried to be merry. Though he was amused by their concern, he had not the strength to show it. All his energy had been spent in the past hour and a half talking with the Telmarine.

"Edmund, are you all right, brother?" Lucy came and knelt beside his chair, a worried expression flitting across her golden features. He smiled, reaching out and brushing his fingers against her sun-kissed, golden-brown hair. He said nothing.

"He is too weak to do this; I knew we should have put it off," Susan spoke to Peter with chagrin, though she looked at Edmund.

"We could not have… put it off merely because I am… ill." Finally his voice returned to him, and he spoke knowingly.

"Edmund, being nearly killed by an assassin is not _illness_!" Peter sounded outraged, as he had been since the night Edmund had fought off the unknown assassin that had tried to murder him in his chambers.

"Quiet, brother, your yelling makes my head spin," Edmund admonished, waving him off. Peter paled slightly; the color of his skin his might have come to match his brother's, but it was far too tanned.

"I am not yelling, Edmund," he whispered. The dark haired young man looked up, slightly surprised.

"Really? I could have sworn you shouted for all the world to hear. No matter," he declared, shrugging before frowning slightly.

"Master Tumnus, send us the physicians; King Edmund is worsening!" Susan looked up at the faun.

"Oh dear, oh dear me! Surely I shall find them, as fast as I can run, my Queen!" Tumnus hurried off, muttering worriedly to himself.

"Peter, my cordial; he cannot be so gravely wounded while we must face the troubles that are sure to be stirred with King Isshiah. I could heal him and this would pain him no longer and worry us no more," Lucy declared.

Peter looked over at Edmund, who stared blankly out at the courtroom, Susan talking about meaningless things beside him. "Yes, perhaps that wo _uld_ …" Edmund heard no more as he fell into unconsciousness, the pain blacking him out.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

The wind pushed against him, and he smiled. Somewhere behind him he could smell the ocean. But all he saw was wondrous green grass, blue sky, white clouds, and glorious Narnia. His beautiful Narnia; how he loved her.

"Edmund, Edmund, come; frolic with me!" The merry yet solemn voice came from behind him, and he turned.

"Aslan," he whispered the name longingly. "Oh, Aslan, it is so dark back there without you; please, return to us; stay away no more!" he begged, running up to the golden lion, burying his fingers in His mane; resting his face against His soft coat.

The Great Lion laughed, a sound which rumbled from deep within Him but seemed to be all of Narnia laughing as well. "Know peace, Wise One; I am with you through all your perils. For you I died, you I love, son of Adam," He answered, touching the King with His nose gently.

"The despair and pain; how it burdens me when you are not near!" Edmund cried in anguish, feeling close to tears, though such things did not befit a King of Narnia. Aslan sunk to the ground, Edmund leaning into His mane.

"I understand, Wise One, how it aches. It is troubling to know there are those who do not comprehend who I am, that I bring peace and rest, and wish no war for anyone. I understand this burden of being one of few who know. Do not despair; I will call you to me when it is time, and then forever shall we be together. Go now, your family and country calls you back." Aslan nudged him away with His nose and His paw, standing.

"I shall try, Aslan, but this world is nothing without you in it, nothing at all." He bowed his head and walked away, the pain in his heart feeling as if it would destroy him.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

The smell of salt air met him, and a light breeze blew over his face, across his hot skin. He tried to move his hand, but it was held fast in another's. Opening his eyes slowly, he found he was in his bedchamber. The curtains had been tossed back from the two balconies and five windows. As the sun rose over the ocean and beamed through the openings, he moved to sit up hesitantly, remembering the pain that always came with such actions.

Though he felt nothing, he was still cautious. Lucy held his hand tightly in both of hers, her head resting on his bed as she had fallen asleep. Peter sat in a chair a ways away, chin resting on his chest. Susan lay at the end of his bed, clearly she had been crying, he could see, noticing the flush of her cheeks and the red around her closed eyes. As he looked around, becoming more awake, Tumnus entered the room.

"Oh, King Edmund!" he exclaimed, waking all the king's siblings.

"Eddie!" Lucy cried out, waking far faster than Edmund believed possible and draping herself around him. Susan woke with a start, and Peter jerked to his feet and dashed to the bed, smiling in relief, kneeling beside the bed, taking his brother's other free hand in his and holding it as if he feared Edmund might vanish.

"Oh, you were so ill. You had a horrible fever and then lay so still for days; we thought you might die!" Susan sobbed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Poison, Edmund; apparently the wound had been inflicted by a poisoned dagger," Tumnus declared.

"But Lucy, she saved you… with the cordial," Peter whispered hoarsely, tightening his hand over Edmund's.

"Thank you for your concern, but if you do not cease hanging from me I might faint!" Edmund laughed, causing all his siblings to retreat slightly with embarrassment; however, they laughed as well.

"Remember, Kloudhunter said he must rest to regain his strength." Tumnus reminded them, after a short reunion and conversation, of the healing Centaur's words. With a great deal of reluctance, the three monarchs straightened, pulling themselves off the large bed and away from their brother.

"This room should be redecorated, Edmund; I had no idea you had such dismal color schemes," Susan noticed as she walked to the doorway. He said nothing, just nodded. But after they'd all gone, leaving him with orders from Tumnus to rest and be still else he'd find himself tied down, he looked about the room.

He cared not for the lack of color, or more correctly, he lamented not the absence of brightness and cheer. Black, silver, white and grey, these colors felt good. The blades over his bed and the black oaken wardrobe to the left beside his desk and many shelves of books suited his tastes. "I like this room, Susan, you shall not touch it," he muttered, reclining. Closing his eyes, he remembered talking with Aslan, and fell into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Yes, the chapters will not be very long, unfortunately. King Isshiah of Telmar is from my AU, but he's all that'll carry over, besides a few other minor things. Again, these are the running-up (1,2,3,4, maybe 5 & 6 too) chapters, the ones to come will be much better and filled with much more interesting details. Please tell me what you think.**

 **WH**


	3. I Cannot Change

Two days since his fever and near-death wound, Edmund walked the halls of Cair Paravel, dressed in Narnian finery. The silver crown glinted as he walked past a window, but he paid no attention to the light as it struck the far wall. Absently, he rested his hands on the hilts of his twin swords, calmed by the sense of security they provided. After much digging and reports from his spies, he was certain the assassin had been a Calormene employed by King Isshiah of Telmar. The thought angered him.

Turning a corridor, he pushed open a large wooden door which let sounds of clashing swords and shouting soldiers echo into the hall. Closing the door behind him, he walked the narrow hall and entered a wide arch into a large, vaulted room. No soldiers stopped to bow to him, as he liked it. They treated him as an equal; he would have it no other way.

A man with deeply tanned skin and dark hair that was greying at the roots nodded to him slightly as he approached. Raising his head slightly, the horrible scar across the left side of his face became visible. This was the Baron Dante de Bergen of Terebinthia. The only man that was his equal in swordplay, and the only man he practiced with once he had surpassed his teachers. They were good friends, and Edmund respected him greatly. He was a true knight of those fairy-stories that had battled a dragon and lived to tell the tale.

"Dante," He nodded, grinning as he practically tore his cape from his shoulders and flung it over a bench. He enjoyed sparring when he had something weighing on his mind.

"Edmund, I notice you seem… occupied by thought." Dante tapped his forehead knowingly, picking up two blades; he fought with two as Edmund did, and many thought it an odd feat.

"Yes, I must have a good fight; Peter is not able to spar, so I come to you," the Just King agreed, nodding as he pulling his blades, tossing them in some intricate maneuvers.

"Stop playing and think," Dante teased, taking a stance.

"I _was_ thinking," Edmund retorted, coming at the man.

For nearly an hour they fought, until many of the soldiers came to watch them. A Satyr teacher nodded at Edmund and then addressed the soldiers and young recruits. "That is how you must fight; though I doubt anyone will equal his Highness."

Edmund pushed Dante against the wall, the flat of his sword coming down on the other man's hand, knocking the sword from it. With the other blade, he pinned the man's sleeve to the wall, so that sword was useless too. Dante grinned as Edmund stepped back, both men panting. "Well… That was quite a stunt," he declared breathlessly, pulling the sword from the wall and reaching to retrieve his that had fallen to the floor.

"I learned from the best," Edmund acknowledged with a quick bow.

"So it would seem. I believe you are to be in court shortly?" Dante reminded his young friend. Edmund started, remembrance coming into his dark eyes.

Instantly his mood darkened and the heavy look of deep thought returned to his brown eyes. "Yes, I am. Perhaps you shall attend as it is open court today?" Edmund asked, sliding his weapons back into their scabbards and walking toward the bench upon which he had tossed his cape.

"No, I shall be returning to Terebinthia for the summer; I must oversee my estate, so I am going to walk along the shore to ponder many things before I begin my journey back on the morrow," Dante answered, a far-off look coming into his eyes.

"I did not know you were leaving," Edmund declared, straightening and looking at his friend.

"You have been ill, and then after that you were otherwise occupied. What time have you to talk with an old Terebinthian baron when you must decide matters of state?" Dante smiled, his grey eyes twinkling. Edmund was struck by the memory of his older sister saying that Dante would be a handsome man if not for his scars. Edmund had answered that he had scars too, but no woman could see them; did scars matter? He thought not.

"I will always have time for an old friend and the man who taught me swordplay," Edmund countered, speaking after a pause. Dante smiled thoughtfully.

"I shall return this fall," he promised, turning back to his weapons and the soldiers in the room. Edmund smiled, looking down at the floor, before leaving the room. Court would wait all day for him; he could not embarrass his siblings by arriving late.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

"My Kings and Queens, we do not want to go to war against Telmar, it is not necessary," a Centaur declared, standing on the open marble floor before the Four Thrones to speak. Edmund leaned back in his throne, watching the blonde centaur with creamy-white hair and golden horse body. He had never seen the palomino color on the Centaur people before, it was striking.

"Perhaps we should think to form an alliance!" a great White Tigress spoke up, her crystal blue eyes searching out the Just King's brown. She had only given her loyalty to the Four Thrones after seeing King Edmund. It was to him alone she swore fealty, and it worried many Narnians.

Murmuring came over the great room. Edmund hated that, it made his head ache. "If you want to speak, speak; I hate mumbling." He raised his voice, startling the Narnians who had been speaking in the back of the room.

The White Tigress' purr turned into a low growl as she said with annoyance, "Speak, the Just King wills it!" She rose to her large, soft paws. "Speak!" Everyone looked about with worried glances; muttering resumed, growing louder and fearful in quality. The threatening growl came again, but a pale outstretched hand from Edmund's throne stilled the large beast.

"Emrys, be still; violence does not become a great warrior. Now, we of the Four Thrones wish to know what you were talking of in self-council," he declared with a flat, disinterested voice that contradicted his words. His siblings shared glances, but Edmund did not look over at them.

A Dryad came forward, his long branch-like hair falling around his shoulders, his forest-green tunic and brown breeches dark against the white, gold, and silver of the courtroom. "We were talking about the possibility of opening our courts to the court of Telmar, letting them come here to see Narnia, as some of the Calormene nobility do during the heat of their summers." The Dryad stopped, feeling foolish for even bringing the subject up.

But Edmund straightened, a new look of interest coming into his eyes at the words. "Go on," he motioned with his hand, a small smile coming to his face as he rested his elbow against the arm of his throne, leaning his head against his hand. His dark hair tumbled around his face, and many in the room noticed that though he looked an unapproachable sight, he surely loved his people.

"Why not ask them to attend some of our feasts, festivals and such that we usually have about this time of year? We will not treat them higher than us, we will not curry favor to them; we shall simply treat them as equals. We could invite many from the court of Telmar, just as we have given standing invitation to the Seven Isles, the Lone Islands, Galma, and Terebinthia," the Dryad finished, nodding, bowing at the waist to his kings and queens as he finished.

"What is your name?" The unrelated question made his siblings frown, but Emrys' purr deepened.

"Gethin, your majesty," the Dryad replied with puzzlement in his voice.

"Well, Gethin, your idea… it has… merit." He stood and walked down the stairs until he was standing before the Dryad; though Edmund was not a short man, the Dryad stood taller than he. "Not often are there brilliant minds met in court. You must attend court more often; I wish to hear more of your ideas." Edmund turned to look at his siblings. "Master Tumnus, General Oreius, and my siblings and I must confer, but we shall return in time."

With those words, Edmund began walking toward a doorway on his left. His siblings, looking at one another, rose from their thrones and followed, trailed by Tumnus and Oreius.

 **~|:O:|~**

"It is a brilliant idea! We can show Telmar that though we are not like their backwards ideas of monarchy, we are not barbaric. If nobles and courtiers return to the castles and manors of Telmar speaking praises, King Isshiah shall surely become curious and perhaps venture here himself." Edmund smiled, looking at his siblings and the Narnians with more enthusiasm than any of them had seen in quite some time.

"We must prepare the castle, then," Tumnus said at long last, slowly nodding, seeing the logic in this idea.

"No, do not clean and act as if this is a Yuletide ball; treat them as we treat the Calormene: with respect, but as equals. The castle is fine for friends visiting from Archenland, Terebinthia, Galma, the Lone Islands, so it is enough for those of Telmar too." Edmund waved off his words.

"But, we have no allies in Telmar, Ed," Lucy spoke up, frowning slightly.

Edmund grinned, reaching out to tug on one of her long golden braids. "That is the point; if this works, we shall have scores."

His siblings looked at one another. "Then let us prepare ourselves and do this thing," Peter said at long last, flashing a bright grin.

"Yes."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So... Edmund isn't so dark in this chapter, but that's only because I wanted to show that he's not dark and scary all the time, but I also want to show that he can plunge into this character at strange times. So.. any questions just ask.**

 **Major thanks to Fiordineve for reviewing and helping me pick a name for the OC in Edmund's relationship! She was a fantastic help!**

 **WH**


	4. Shadows In My Soul

_Darkness_ …

He jerked awake. Gasping slightly, he sat up quickly and pushed his wild hair from his eyes, sighing as he tried to console himself that it was only a nightmare and nothing more. Swallowing, he realized it had been long since he'd dreamed such things. He looked listlessly about the room, staring into the darkened corners, watching the drapes move slightly in the breeze, sometimes parting enough to let a bit of moonlight pass into the room in sliver shafts.

He threw the covers off his body and stood, walking to the curtained balcony. Slipping between the draperies, he stepped out, his bare feet tingling with the sensation of cold stone against his warm skin. It had always startled him when he'd been younger that he still felt cold when he thought he could get no colder. It had taken him time to understand that this feeling of being "cold" was brought on by the nightmare.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, kneeling down at the balustrade and resting his head against the cool marble. The wind pulled at his loose linen shirt and ruffled his hair; the wetness in the salt air kinked up his long black locks, curling it at the ends slightly. "I am a man of war and death and so should be accustomed to such things, yet still I have nightmares of battle, faces long dead, and a woman who cannot hurt me," he whispered to the cool night air.

"Why?" The wind carried his question, drowning it in its own soft sighs and whispers.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Peter entered his brother's quarters a little past six in the morning. After walking down the short corridor into his brother's bedchamber, he started to speak, but noticed that Edmund was not there. Frowning, he looked around. "Edmund, where are you?" he called out, walking further into the room.

"Brother." Peter turned to look in the direction of the balcony from whence the voice came. Slowly, he walked toward it. Coming to the curtains, he reached up and parted them at the top, looking out. Looking to his right revealed no one, but to his left was Edmund, sitting up on the balustrade, his back against the castle wall. If he was to lose his balance, he would be dashed against the rock far below. Peter frowned at the odd seat, walking out onto the balcony and letting the curtains fall closed behind him.

"Why are you up there; you know how dangerous that is," he admonished softly.

"I am not afraid; Aslan keeps me between His paws, as He does us all," Edmund retorted in as equally a soft tone.

Silence fell.

"What is it you seek?" Edmund asked finally, closing his eyes, letting the sun wash over his pale skin. He could not understand why it was always so pale, no matter how long he stood in the sun. Sometimes, when he was merry, he would claim this was because of his time with Jadis. But when his mood was dark, he was certain it was so.

"I wanted to know what we should send in the letters to Telmar, inviting the guests," Peter finally spoke, watching the sun turn the ocean to fire and brighten the sky.

"That they are welcome to attend the Springtime Festival, if they wish. Add the embellishments, I haven't the time to think on them," he whispered, opening his eyes.

Peter glanced at him, sensing that he was sinking into his depression again. "You dreamt it again, did you not?" he asked after a moment. Edmund only nodded; he was growing tired of Peter's questions.

"Perhaps you should go up into the West while the Telmarines are here; perhaps it will do you good." Peter tried to sound cheerful. But he worried. Edmund's depressions could last for weeks; months, even. It would not do for the Just King to suddenly become the Black King that Telmar spread rumors of him to be. It would not look good for this idea they planned if he was to walk about the halls draped in dark garments, staring icily at people; interrupting others' conversations to tell them that their ideas were stupid or lacked strategy.

"I am not going into the West, not now," Edmund answered, his voice turning cold. Peter knew he should hold his tongue, but he could not help it.

"It would be better for this plan if you did," he pushed.

Edmund turned his head to look at his brother, slowly straightening and moving from his perch on the balustrade. Peter stepped back to allow him room to jump down, afraid he might fall. Edmund paused in front of his brother once he stood on the balcony floor, looking at him intently, dark hair falling around his face, adding an element of instability to his countenance.

"Don't be afraid of me, dear brother, it's not you I hate." His voice was soft, an odd smile coming to his face which sent a tingle down Peter's back before he walked past him and through the curtains.

Peter shook his head, hating the thought, but unable to help it. His brother sounded like the Witch when he became like this: so… superficially kind, so unfeeling, so emotionless.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Servants and Narnians scurried out of Edmund's way as he walked down the halls. Black, grey, and white wolves followed at his heels, sensing the change in him as they always did, snarling at anyone who wasn't fast enough to move out of Edmund's path. Emrys loped down a set of stairs to join them and jostled a large wolf away from their King's side with a hiss and a swipe of her big paw.

Edmund continued his purposeful walk and pushed open the doors into the dining hall with great force; Emrys leaned her shoulder against the massive doors as well, so that when they fell open, the once-servants to the White Witch and King Edmund cut a fearsome figure. His black velvet cape swirling around his boots, the silver thread embroidered across his shirt occasionally showing up in the light which streamed in through open double doors leading to the long balcony outside the dining hall.

He stopped two yards into the room. Around him the wolves and Emrys stood, turning their heads to survey the room aggressively for possible danger. "I am going hunting, would anyone like to join me?" Though it seemed like an invitation, it was more of an unspoken dare.

Peter looked up from his breakfast, Lucy and Susan also. Lord Peridan was dining with them, along with Lord Dar of Archenland. The Lord had just arrived that morning, and knew nothing about these hunts. He looked curious.

"I might like to join –" he stopped, noticing a subtle look from Lucy. "I should say, I _would_ like dearly to join, but perhaps I could catch up later? King Lune sent me here for a particular reason that is most urgent, so I cannot dally, I'm afraid." He shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

A strange smile came across Edmund's face. "Very well. Perhaps you are smart not to join me; I usually hunt alone," he said dismissively, as if accepting that Dar was afraid of joining him though the Lord knew nothing. Edmund turned to go; his dark cape flared out behind him as he turned, brushing over the coat of a large grey wolf.

"Edmund!" Peter could not restrain his old habit. Edmund paused, turning profile to the room.

"Yes?" He waited.

"Ed, be careful," Peter said with a touch of concern and affection.

"Of course." He exited the room, a few of the wolves in his wake howling in anticipation of the hunt.

"Why did you not wish for me to join your brother?" Dar turned questioning blue eyes on the King, Queens, and Lord Peridan.

"He hunts with Stags," Peter said dismissively.

Lord Dar frowned, confused. "What? That does not make sense; you cannot hunt with stags, only after–"

"He hunts with the Stags of Darkening Wood," Lucy clarified. "The Black Stags once loyal to Jadis."

"Talking Stags hunt?" Dar was curious more than confused now. He had heard of the many Talking Animals that had sided with the Witch, but had not known of the Black Stags.

"These are no ordinary Talking Stag," Peter spoke up.

"Yes, they are massive and black, with white underbellies and tails, heads crowned by sharp, deadly antlers bearing sixteen points." Susan reached for her glass of coffee, a look of distaste crossing her beautiful features as she mentioned the antlers.

"They were soldiers of the worst kind. They hunt as they once killed in battle, and it is a fearful thing to watch and participate in; it takes courage to face such brutal hunting," Peter added.

"How do they hunt?" Dar asked, looking around the table. Peter did not speak, Lucy refused to look up, and Susan acted as if her plate was far more fascinating than the conversation.

"The wolves flush out the prey, and the Black Stags lie in wait. Once the quarry has fled from the covering of the forest, they leap after it, finally cornering it between each other. Lowering their heads, and the one to get to the quarry first lifts the animal onto its points and tosses it high, then letting it fall to the ground. If in battle, they would do this until the enemy was dead. It is… uncomfortable to watch the beast they toss cry out in fear, and even more disconcerting to hear its neck snap when it falls back to earth," Peridan finished, looking down.

Dar was rather shocked. "And this does not bother the Just King?"

Peter looked up, his eyes meeting Lord Dar's in an intense stare. "The first, and last, time _we_ hunted with the Black Stags, Edmund laughed. He had been in his… mood, and had laughed as if it the most amusing thing in the world…" Peter trailed off, looking across the floor absently, lost in memories of the autumn he would not soon forget.

"Is he in this "mood" again?" Dar questioned.

"I would suppose so. It is strange things that bring his spells on, and the only thing you can do during them is pray they lift soon. The Calormene pray to Tash, the Islanders pray to Vadva, but I tell you to pray to Aslan, for only he can end them swiftly." Peter glanced at the doors once more, before standing slowly. "Well, we must plan for this Festival," he changed the subject quickly, causing his sisters and Lord Peridan to rise also.

"Of course," Lord Dar nodded and resumed his meal as the King, Queens, and Lord left the room. He thought about King Edmund for quite some time after that.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **As I'm feeling in an unusually benevolent mood, I'm presenting you with chapter four. I can't thank Fiordineve enough for her beautiful, lovely reviews! Some questions answered that might be asked:**

 **Vadva is a goddess of the Seven Islanders that I made up; she will come up in my Narnian AU Golden Age fanfic that I'll do sometime in late 2016 early-middle 2017. Lord Dar and Lord Peridan I did not create, both are C.S. Lewis's characters mentioned in " _The Horse and His Boy._ " **

**The Black Stags of Darkening Wood (Darkening Wood: Western Woods, same place, just different names) are OC creations of mine that were once servants to Jadis. The female version is much less violent, but more elusive. Does are entirely black with silver dappling. (if you were curious) As we all know, stags don't hunt. But I _have_ heard of them charging possible threats and tossing them in the air.**

 **I am also aware of how "passive" and "uninvolved"- weak, even, - the other Pevensies seem. I want ya'll to know that if I was focusing on Peter, everyone else would fall into similar category. If I was doing Lucy or Susan, I would put them in the spotlight and fade the others out.**

 **I do this because of C.S. Lewis' lines in _'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe'_ : **"Edmund was a graver and quieter man than Peter, and great in council and judgement."

 **I'm focusing in on Edmund right now; this story is, after all, about Edmund. His siblings are not weaker than he, not by all means! Edmund was the best at council and judgement, so I put him in his element where he outshines the rest. This is why they seem the way they are.**

 **So, please review, as I love feedback on this story. And welcome, Rosazul66, to this story; I hope you like it,**

 **WH**


	5. Speak To Me Not

As the rider on the tall black horse galloped into the courtyard of Cair Paravel, Emrys snarled and spat, pawing at horses or Narnians that came too close. Wolves howled as they ran behind the horse and rider; biting one another and fighting amongst themselves over scraps of meat that some still carried from the wild boar they'd hunted. And, if it were possible, with a more ominous stature than the king, ten Black Stags sprinted after not far behind. One of the large beasts shook its great horned head, small drips of drying blood trickling down the sharp points of bone.

Several more bucked and clashed antlers as Edmund reigned to a stop; mock-fighting with one another as they waited for their king to give them their orders. But there was nothing playful about them, not like other Talking Deer in Narnia. Centaurs, Talking Horses, and other Animals trotted out of the way as two Stags charged one another, not waiting for anyone to move a safe distance.

The large black stallion Edmund rode tossed his head, mane flying, eyes rolling with nervous excitement because of the mock-battle of the Stags. It was a war-horse, and merely the sounds of any possible fighting excited it and made it unpredictable. But Edmund handled him skillfully; turning him in tight circles and pulling the inside rein until he quieted some. As he dismounted, however, the horse gave a half-rear. Emrys hissed and roared, pulling back on her white hind legs and swatting at the beast's face with her large paws to still him for her lord and master.

Edmund nodded to her. Turning, he called quietly two words to the unruly Stags. "Be still." Instantly, the animals ceased their actions, ears flicking and heads occasionally tossing as they focused on him. "I thank you for the hunt; it was good for me to escape the dull castle life I lead; perhaps we might do this some other day," he declared, bowing slightly to the Stags.

"Sire," the largest of the Black Stags answered in reply, bowing his head and neck low until his antlers nearly touched the cobbles. The rest of the Stags followed suit, giving some form of respect before wheeling on nimble legs and sprinting out the gate the way they had come. One bucked as he passed through the large gate, kicking out his hind legs, and caught a wolf on the shoulder, laying the animal flat. The wolf growled, but did not move until the Stags were out of sight. That was his punishment for not following his king's orders to the letter, and he would take it without complaint.

A Faun quickly came over and grabbed the bridle of Night, Edmund's black stallion, and led the horse off while Edmund and Emrys mounted the stairs into Cair Paravel.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

"Oh, Edmund, you're back!" Lucy joyfully ran to her brother, but stopped feet in front of him because of the look across his face. A saddened emotion passed across her bright blue eyes. "But you're still lost in memories," she declared with a sigh, turning her face away, feeling uncomfortable around him when he was like this.

"Pray to Aslan that the Edmund you love returns soon, then," he whispered as he walked past, Emrys by his side like a strange shadow-ghost.

"I shall," she murmured, too soft for him to hear as she turned and watched him go. She must discuss this with Susan and Peter, something had to be done or he might ruin the plans he had helped set into motion.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

 _"I'll die first!"_

 _"So be it!" She smiled cruelly._

Edmund woke with a start, shaking horribly. He dreaded these nights, these ceaseless torments. He knew, however, that no matter how he pleaded and begged, they would not go from him. He exhaled, trying to still his trembling hands, arms, nerves. He fell back among the pillows, clean and white and smelling of honeysuckle and lilac. He didn't know why they smelled like that, but it helped him to focus on something besides his nightmares, so he welcomed the smell. He stared up at his dark canopy, the heavens meticulously embroidered into it.

"Damn my living hell," he muttered to himself angrily, feeling the need to hit something, to maim something brutally. Tiredly he slung his arm over his eyes, the sleeve of the loose white shirt covering most of his face. "I am a burden to my siblings, and a fear to all my subjects; why do you let me cause them pain! Why didn't you simply let me die to pay my sins?" His scream of frustration ended in a confused moan.

Flinging the sheets wildly, he rose quickly from bed, grabbed a sword from the large rack against a wall, and exited his chambers. A walk on the beach might clear his head.

 **~|:O:|~**

The waves crashed in the darkness lit by the waning moon and the distant stars. The white foam rushed up to kiss the shore and retreated as if rudely rebuffed. Edmund walked alone across the sand, having used secret passages to exit Cair without being seen. He had wanted to be alone, without an annoying guard at his back. He held his sword in one hand absently as he walked just shy of getting his bare feet wet with saltwater.

"I cannot put off this darkness, this burden, without you, Aslan. I do not want to leave my siblings after suggesting this idea, but I cannot jeopardize it by remaining here. What should I do?" He paused and gazed up at the stars. Though he looked to them, he was not consulting their wisdom, but asking the Great Lion for guidance.

"I am so tired of this, so very tired," he whispered, falling to the sand. Resting his sword down on the shore, he lay out beside it, listening to the waves as he was lulled to sleep by them.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

"My King, my Lord; wake, for it is the dawn." The voice was soft with a purring undertone. A warm tongue brushed his cheek, pulling him from the long-sought slumber on the beach. Edmund rolled onto his side, looking up at the speaker. Emrys growled affectionately, nudging him with her nose on the shoulder.

"I am up, Emrys; has anyone else been searching for me?" he asked, leaning against her strong shoulders as he came to his feet, grabbing his sword on his way up.

"Not as of yet, but soon the entire castle will be an annoying cacophony if you do not get there soon," the white Tigress answered, walking beside him on quiet paws, her claws digging into the sand and then retracting.

"Thank you," Edmund murmured, resting his hand on her neck, fingers sinking into her thick fur.

"It is nothing for the man who gave me life when I should have been given death." Emrys refuted the praise. "Has your demon left you?" she asked. Not truly understanding what ailed him, she referred to it as a demon, and Edmund supposed it very well might have been.

Edmund was quiet for a moment. "Not truly, not as it does when it really leaves me for a time. But I think I am not so dark as I was yesterday," he answered at last.

"Well and good, for it will not be long now that answers are given to our letters sent to Telmar," Emrys replied.

"Perhaps," Edmund agreed with a slight nod.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I know, I know, nothing yet of what I spoke of in the summary, but please give me time. I'm trying to build up Edmund character before we go anywhere _near_ romance and affairs. I also will go into Hadassa's (the girl he falls for) character too. I want this to be as un-cliche as possible. **

**I'm UD today, right now, because I don't know if my internet will hold, and I just feel that I must get past all these preliminaries. Any questions I'll answer in PM!**

 **Also, welcome KeepSailingKids! I don't know if you'll read much of this story or keep on reviewing, but to know that you did keeps me wanting to write this.**

 **And, round of applause to Fiordineve, who is a fantastic support for this Edmund/OC fic! Thank you for realizing it's not a Mary-sue, I greatly appreciate this!**

 **Sorry it's so short, guys! :( But this is just the way it turned out,**

 **WH**


	6. Twill Be My Undoing

They had received ten replies to the letter they sent out at the beginning of the month, and though not many preparations were done besides ensuring they had enough food for perhaps twenty extra people and that there were clean rooms and chambers ready for them, everyone still rushed about uneasily. But the uneasiness was from fear or nerves; how might the Telmarines react to this country?

Peter had said that when the first guest sent word that they would be arriving, to send for him; until then, he would be going to the hunting lodge in the Shuddering Woods with a few of his military officers. Lucy spent more of her time training with her dagger and keeping her healing skill sharpened than thinking about the visiting Telmarines. Susan went around ordering servants and fellow Narnians because she wanted things to be presentable for the nobility that would be arriving in the next three weeks.

When a horse and rider galloped into Cair nine days before the first noble was believed to arrive, with a letter telling the news that they would be there in four days, Edmund was sent for Peter, who he was riding for now, with Emrys at his heels. His mood had not improved, though it had lightened considerably. Now it was growing darker than ever as he muttered about his brother disregarding all etiquette laws to spend a few days in quiet before the hell of Telmarines criticizing their every move.

As Edmund reined Night to a halt before the lodge, Peter came out the door. He looked at his brother in surprise. "I suppose the first rider has arrived with news, then," he declared somewhat glumly.

"Yes, and you must ride to Cair _now_ because I shall not have the High King of Narnia make her a laughingstock to such a barbaric nation as Telmar!" Edmund retorted angrily, circling Night tightly to keep him under control.

"Such an outburst from the Just King; I must have done something worth a lecture," Peter murmured, smiling in a brotherly manner. He would rather Edmund argue with him like this then tell him something coolly. It meant he was coming out of the darkness for a while.

"What you've done deserves a beating, but I shall not administer it! Susan says that if you are not back by sundown, she'll have guards come and remove you from this place by force." Edmund stared at his brother for a long minute, before a slow smile slowly came over his face. "I suggest you begin closing up the lodge, _Sire_ ," he finished with a good-natured grin.

Peter could have shouted, laughed, and cried for joy; Edmund _was_ getting over his affliction. "I shall be at Cair before the sun completely sets," he declared.

"We shall be waiting," Edmund answered, nodding once before spurring Night back the way he'd galloped, Emrys following.

Peter smiled before turning back into the lodge; he must begin closing the place and setting out for Cair Paravel.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

"I do wish you would _stop_." Edmund scowled. The siblings were all sitting in a large room that they occasionally congregated in when they wanted to simply be together. Edmund had been trying to finish the account of the Northern Campaign, but with Susan pacing in an agitated manner, he was unable to concentrate.

"They should be here on the morrow or the afternoon of the next," Susan tossed back anxiously. She was trying to gather her thoughts and think about what she could say to the Telmarines and what she couldn't.

"I am just as much an ambassador as you, and yet I do not twitch and fidget as if I were a boy of ten," Edmund reprimanded, looking her up and down disapprovingly.

"Were you ever a boy of ten?" Susan retorted, the worried look returning to her features when she thought of yet another thing she could not do with the Telmarines present. Lucy and Peter looked up from their conversation, shocked that Susan would bait Edmund's dark temperament like that. Edmund recoiled from the words, straightening in the chair he sat in.

"Sometimes I wonder," he answered, rising. "I grow weary of the late hour, I believe I shall seek out my bed," he declared at long last, after straightening the desk, cleaning the quills and securing the papers he had been working on. Peter and Lucy waited until Edmund had left to turn their attentions to Susan.

"Why did you do that? He was coming out of it, but you may have just put him back in his mood!" Lucy rebuked her sister sharply, looking hurt and confused.

"I'm tired of this! I'm so tired of his attitude and his mannerisms. Why doesn't he act like us?" Susan retorted angrily.

"Because he has experienced something you never will, Susan. Or have you forgotten how he looked when we saw him, after he was freed from the Witch?" Peter looked at her harshly, quickly standing. "You have not faced such grave a thing as betraying us, as he did. Do not judge him and mock him for things you cannot understand. By all rights he should have died on the Stone Table, but he did not. Be grateful that he lives, would you, not angry that he is withdrawn." Peter passed a hand over his face, anger spent.

Susan turned her head away, feeling foolish and childish. "I'm sorry, Peter, Lucy," she whispered.

"No, we're not the ones who must be forgiven; you should speak those words to Edmund," Lucy answered, glancing at her sister and then looking away, biting her lip, still hurt that Susan could think to say such things. Peter nodded in agreement.

"I know." She nodded her dark head, the long wavy length of it rippling slightly.

"Well and good." Peter sighed, seating himself again. Lucy glanced at him and then at Susan, before resuming their conversation.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **This one is really short, I'm so sorry! It just wouldn't be longer, however. I tried adding it to the next chapter, but that made things seem weird and too fast-paced. So this 989 word chapter came out of the mess. I'm really sorry, but I do hope it adds something to the Pevensies as siblings.**

 **I don't know if it does, but, well, I suppose that is up to you guys to decide. The hunting lodge would be along up the coast from Cair Paravel, down by the River Shribble, but before the marshes. At a leisurely pace, it's a day's ride. At the pace Edmund galloped, somewhere around six hours.**

 **Welcome Guest Reviewer, I hope you enjoy this story and the further chapters to come!**

 **Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed: Rozasul66, KeepSailingKids, & Fiordineve. You guys inspire me to keep this going! **

**WH**


	7. Margin of Difference

Edmund paced behind his siblings. A messenger had ridden up not ten minutes past with word that the first of the Telmarines would arrive shortly. Edmund was growing annoyed with the long delay. He'd never had much patience for Telmarines, and this hadn't changed his view of them. Of course they'd arrive when it suited them and not consider that he and his siblings would have to stand here waiting to welcome them. He paused, looked at his brother. "Nothing yet?" he demanded, coming over to Peter's side.

"Of course not; I think that when I _do_ see them I'll give a battle cry to startle their mounts!" Peter declared sarcastically, earning a disapproving look from Lucy.

Then, as Edmund was about to say something cutting, the clap of shod hooves over cobbles could be heard, and several Telmarine soldiers on horseback, with riders between them, entered the great courtyard of Cair Paravel. A single soldier, whom Edmund could tell was an officer, rode up to the steps. A faun came and held his bridle, but he waved the Narnian off. Looking up to the kings and queens, he addressed them.

"My lords, Kings and Queens of Narnia, I am Captain Alvar, charged with safeguarding the nobles of Telmar that have journeyed with me." His voice was brusque, and to Peter it sounded as if he were impatient.

"If you wish, we can house you in the military quarters and stable your animals while you dismount and rest from the long ride," Peter answered generously. He did not have to suggest such a thing; he had agreed to house nobles, not Telmarine soldiers.

"I cannot partake of such kindness, I fear," Captain Alvar answered, though he nodded gratefully. "I must return to Telmar forthwith, and to my unit for summer training."

"Train hard, you'll need it," Edmund muttered under his breath mockingly. He and Peter had agreed long ago that there was little order to the Telmarine military; they were not as unified as the Narnian army.

"Ed _mund_ ," Lucy muttered under her breath, nudging him subtly with her elbow. He turned a cold look to her in response.

The Captain moved away and the Telmarine nobility began dismounting and coming toward them. Fauns, Satyrs, Centaurs and Dryads moved to take the horses to the stables. A short, rotund Telmarine herald climbed the first few steps and paused, catching his breath as he waited for the nobles to walk past him.

"Count Efrain and his wife, the Countess Coronilla," the herald announced, bowing slightly and motioning to the man and woman as they slowly ascended the stairs. Edmund watched these two; Efrain was the younger brother of King Isshiah, and Edmund had little respect for either brother. They were dangerous, cruel men that would let nothing stand in their way of obtaining power.

"The charge of Count Efrain by order of the King: Lady Hadassa, daughter of the fallen Sir Vézian."

Edmund listened halfheartedly, recalling that being the name of a soldier he'd killed in battle several years back. That death had set both Telmar and Narnia in an uproar, especially since it was discovered that King Isshiah had been life-long friends with the knight and had been deeply grieved by his death. Isshiah had demanded the man who killed Vézian be given to him so that he could punish him. But Peter, knowing it was Edmund who had killed the Telmarine and that Vézian had fallen in battle and not in a duel, refused.

Rightfully so, considering that a war had been in progress and death was death; Peter would not have demanded Vézian's life in place of Edmund's had the situation be reversed. This death, however, had made things tense between the two countries. This death, and the fact that Peter refused to allow Telmarine trade through Narnia. His main reason for this was that they dealt in slaves, and Peter, Lucy, Susan, and Edmund wanted nothing to do with that, and neither did the Narnians.

The girl looked up at the Narnian monarchs with dark blue eyes as she climbed the many stairs to the large entrance of Cair Paravel behind the Count and Countess. Edmund caught her gaze, staring at her coldly until she averted her eyes from them. What right had she to look at them as if she was an equal? She was nothing but a poor girl fortunate enough to have had her dead father be childhood friends with the King; earning her the rich clothes she wore and the precious jewels that decorated her neck. She was nothing, and she should realize that.

A dark light entered his eyes, making his pale features all the more ominous. Efrain looked toward him, and Edmund smiled coldly, belittlingly. The man had best be careful; he was in Edmund's territory now. Edmund was dangerous in lands that he knew. He was powerful, both in the courts of Cair, and in the shadows.

The herald announced the final three nobles. Baron Ninvialazar, his sister Lady Heshlotte, and an elderly Duke called Frevalla that had merely come for relaxation. Lady Heshlotte looked a snake, Edmund though, grinning in contempt at the woman. Her eyes were hard and cold, like glittering obsidian, and her dark skin was too smooth for her age. He would fancy getting to know her, and burn her for what she thought she knew better than he. All their wisdom was equal to dust compared to his vast knowledge.

The Baron and his sister paused when they reached the Kings and Queens. Heshlotte looked at them for a long moment. Edmund, unable to contain himself, smiled icily. "Lady Heshlotte, please enjoy yourself while you reside here. But _do_ be cautious; I'd hate for something unfortunate to befall you." Lucy covered her horrified expression smoothly, and Susan continued to smile graciously; this was all her fault. If she had just kept her mouth silent the night before, Edmund could have been normal today– what qualified as "normal" for him, anyway.

Heshlotte showed no reaction, as Edmund sensed she would. She was too sly for that. She only nodded in return, stiff and rigid as she held her brother's arm. Edmund hated her already, and they had not even exchanged words to one another besides his rude welcome.

The Baron nodded. "We shall aspire to enjoy this visit and get to know your Highnesses better; perhaps our countries shall benefit from this."

Edmund scoffed subtly, realizing that though Ninvialazar might be a good man, he was a puppet controlled by his sister. "The only thing stopping her from murdering him is her femininity," he muttered under his breath, looking toward the elderly Duke that was slowly hobbling up the stairs. The man stumbled slightly, and before the herald could reach him, or any of the man's personal servants, Lucy hurried down the steps and caught his arm.

"Oh, thank you… Queen Lucy! I do not think a queen should fancy herself an aid to an old man." The grey haired Duke smiled when he looked over at the young woman.

"I could not stand by and let you stumble; it would not be in Aslan's nature to forsake those who need some small aid, so neither shall it be in mine," Lucy replied, taking his arm so he might better support himself.

"This Aslan does not sound so horrible and terrifying from the way you speak of him. Milady, I am glad to hear he is such a comfort." Lucy led the Duke up the stairs and continued with a conversation about Aslan as they walked through the entry doors of Cair.

Edmund and Peter enjoyed hearing such words from the Telmarine, but they also knew that he was an old man, and if his views on Narnia were not those of his countrymen, it did not really matter; soon he would be unable to attend court or have a voice to be heard. Efrain came up to Peter, talking about something military, and Peter walked off with the man. Susan took the Countess and Lady Hadassa, so it was left to Edmund to direct the servants on where the dispose of the trunks brought in on a large wagon.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Edmund walked down the corridors of the northern wing, where the Baron and Lady Heshlotte would reside; their personal servants carrying small bags and twelve Centaurs carrying the Telmarine noble's trunks behind him. He was more than grateful they would not be near his chambers. He would have enough trouble keeping his tongue silenced during balls, the meals of the day, and any other outings that might be created by Susan and Lucy to entertain these guests. He could not have been civil to the Baron and his sister had they taken up rooms near his.

Pity Susan and Lucy had decided to put the Count and Countess in the east wing with him. Well, he knew that was being too dramatic. They weren't truly "with him." They would be halls, corridors, and many secret passages away, but they very well might have been close to him! He scowled. After a few more turns of the corridor, they arrived at Lady Heshlotte and Baron Ninvialazar's chambers. He opened the door and ushered in their personal servants, instructed the Centaurs carrying their trunks to enter the room also, and then turned away to deliver the next set of trunks.

He eyed the last set of eight trunks distastefully. " _Women and their clothes,"_ he scoffed, leading the Centaurs and the rest of the servants – he and Lucy had already settled the Duke, who had declared that he would rest and perhaps take the evening meal in his rooms because he was tired after the journey – and began the long trek to the east wing.

After finishing this task, he set out to find Emrys. He wanted some good company. She understood his dark attitude; he appreciated that about her very much. He walked brusquely down the hall, lost in thought; he turned a corner, and was forced to stop abruptly when met face-to-face with Countess Coronilla and her charge.

"Oh, your Majesty!" Coronilla curtsied, subtly motioning for the girl beside her to do the same. Edmund watched them, expressionless. Finally, when they rose, he forced himself to nod and strike up a conversation.

"I hope you are well, Countess; what has brought you to Cair Paravel; besides our letter, of course." He smiled, easily slipping into a smooth character that he'd found worked well with women.

"I'm afraid it was my health, your Majesty. It has not been good of late, and the physicians of court say that the warmer climate and ocean air might be better for my constitution than the cool air of Telmar," Coronilla answered. Edmund nodded, feigning interest. So she was ill, then? Studying her more, he noticed it indeed showed on her. She seemed thin for all the layers and fabric of her Telmarine fashions, and there was a worn, tired look in her dark blue eyes.

"I pray the air makes you well, Countess," he answered kindly, bowing slightly. He realized she must be tired after the long ride if she was so ill, and that was where they were going. A nagging sliver of guilt crept into his conscience when he thought about how ready a moment ago he was to be rude.

"Yes, thank you. If you would excuse us, your Highness, but Hadassa and I must retire for a short time after such a long ride. Women are not as strong as the men for such grueling cross-country travel, I fear," Coronilla stated, moving to Edmund's right so she might pass him.

"Indeed," Edmund murmured, turning his head to watch them go. "There should be a ban on wearing those horrid Telmarine fashions and hair styles once you cross the Narnian border. Countess Coronilla's health would be better for it," he mused to himself, before resuming his search for Emrys.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, here's another chapter! Sorry I haven't updated, but life is beckoning (school, you know; graduating in two years and I've gotta get stuff together for collage) besides that we have Thanksgiving to clean for and a birthday to celebrate here; things are getting hectic! So, thanks to everyone whose reviewed! I love hearing from ya'll, reviews are what keep this story being updated.**

 **So... Edmund killed Hadassa's father, eh? I suppose he'll have to settle that with her after a while, dontcha think? Hmm... not much else to mention in this chapter, except that though this AU is separate from my other main Narnian AU (Star Cycle) names will be reused for totally different characters.**

 **Fiordineve is a great inspiration to keep writing, I am eternally grateful!**

 **Guest Reviewer, I'm glad you like this, and thanks for the compliment; let's hope I do something with this talent that benefits me! ;)**

 **Ya'll know the drill, questions in reviews; I'll answer as soon as I can get to 'em! Please review, (not speaking to Fiordineve, KeepSailingKids or Rosazul66 and Guest Reviewer) because I dearly wish to know opinions on this, believe me, it helps my writing get better,**

 **WH**


	8. Between Shades & Shadows

"Now remember: High King Peter, Queen Susan, Queen Lucy, and King Edmund. Recite their titles, please," Efrain asked, looking over at the young girl he had been charged to raise as his own. Though he had indeed raised her, it had been a strict upbringing, befitting for any Telmarine noble's daughter, which Hadassa was certainly not. Isshiah's favoritism of this should-be penniless girl puzzled Efrain and his wife, but they said nothing of it.

"The lord High King Peter the Magnificent, the Lady Queen Susan the Gentle, the Lady Queen Lucy the Valiant, and the Lord King Edmund the- the Just?" Hadassa's voice rose in question.

Efrain understood, though he reprimanded her stumbling. How could you remember such a title when the man had many in the Court of Telmar? King Edmund the Traitor; the Dark King; the Shadowed One. After hearing so many, how could she still remember the hardly-spoken title that Narnia gave him and called him by though the others suited him far better? He shook his head slightly, instructing her on how to present herself when in the monarchs' presence.

"But if they are such barbarians, why must I do all of this?" Hadassa managed to ask after a moment of quiet between the riders. Efrain's expression hardened and he did not answer, unbelieving that she would ask that of him. It was not a woman's place to question the minds of men. Coronilla rode up beside Hadassa. The Countess was tired, but she spoke up quickly.

"Do not question your lord, Hadassa. We must do this because it is proper. It is etiquette. And it is expected of a woman of any noble breeding to respect all kings and queens; be they barbarians or men and women of fine royal blood," the older woman explained to the young girl.

"Yes, milady," Hadassa murmured, bowing her head slightly in embarrassment.

Coronilla nodded, before looking to her husband. "You sent the rider ahead?" she inquired of him.

"Yes; we should reach Cair Paravel shortly, my dear. I know this has been hard on you, but you will be better for it. Perhaps when we return to Telmar, we shall sail," Efrain declared, looking over at his wife with concern. Though his love for Hadassa was somewhat forced, his love for his wife was not. He cared for her deeply, and had taken care of her and watched over her through her many illnesses since they'd married.

"I believe I shall retire once we reach the palace, I feel light-headed," Coronilla remarked softly, fingering the reins of her mount uneasily. She disliked being ill; she hated to trouble her husband with her problems; he was an important man, and taking care of her was costly to his time in court.

"Remember, Hadassa, no matter how many Narnian women wear their hair down and dress in those loose gowns, it is disgraceful and shows ill breeding. A proper Telmarine lady keeps her hair bound back and wears clothes that are not so revealing, unless she is in her own home with her husband," Efrain suddenly spoke sharply, a hard look coming into his eyes.

"Efrain, she is not so foolish, she knows. She would not be willful and follow after the silly fashions of women of the Narnian court," Coronilla reprimanded her husband slightly, feeling that he had no reason to embarrass Hadassa so; she was not a child; she knew what was proper and what was not.

"Perhaps you are right," Efrain admitted, nodding his head. "But so many can forget themselves in this wild land; I have heard stories from Calormene dignitaries about their people leaving Tashbaan to live like these barbarians." He shook his head disapprovingly.

"Silly superstitions," Coronilla scoffed, resting her hand on her mare's smooth, milk-white neck.

"Perhaps," Efrain nodded after he spoke.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Hadassa gazed around her in awe as they rode through the gates of the citadel below Cair Paravel. Slowly, they rode up different tiers, passing Narnians of all kinds. The girl was so shocked that Narnians truly were animals and strange half-man half-beast beings. Some of the strange-looking creatures caused her to shudder. At one point, a pack of wolves ran past barking and howling, frightening their mounts so that the Telmarine horses stood stiff-legged and flinched nervously until the wolves disappeared down a narrow side street.

"Riff-raff," Efrain muttered.

"Commoners," Captain Alvar declared in a calming voice, riding back to ensure that they were unharmed before continuing on to the castle at the top of the gently sloping cliff.

Hadassa frowned slightly, wondering if Narnians had any such things as commoners. She remembered in her lessons that she'd been instructed in when she had been younger that all Narnians were subjects and equals, that most lived in this citadel – Altair – or in the woods where they had lived for centuries, and that the four Kings and Queens were careful to keep any of their people from being reduced to begging. But she said nothing because she had not been spoken to and only urged her buckskin mare forward with the others.

Efrain and Coronilla had not engaged in conversation with the Baron Ninvialazar and Lady Heshlotte; Hadassa had wondered why until she'd happened to overhear the woman ordering around her brother and talking about Cair Paravel and the four Kings and Queens as if they were uneducated savages. Count Efrain might harbor adamant dislike for the rulers of Narnia and their methods, but he would never say such things about them, Hadassa was certain. The Count and Countess talked occasionally with the elderly Duke Frevalla, making sure he was comfortable and asking him about his estate and family matters.

Hadassa was left alone for most of the trip, unless Coronilla engaged her in some sewing, sampler stitching, or embroidery while they sat around the fires in the evening after dinner, listening to Efrain or Captain Alvar recount some tale of Narnia or something from Telmarine history and lore. She missed the talks she'd have with her ladies-in-waiting; two young girls only a year older and younger than her. But she had to forgo these enjoyable conversations because of the lack of chamber walls and privacy.

Efrain would be displeased with their chatter about handsome – even if they were barbaric – Narnian kings and human knights and lords. Coronilla would start insisting they must find a husband for her, and then this entire spring trip that they had planned to last until the autumn would be horrible for her knowing that when they returned to Telmar she would most likely be married off to some Lord or Knight suitable in her guardians' eyes that would build up Efrain's power.

She took in as much of the twelve tiers of Cair Paravel as she could before they reached the gates of the great palace by the ocean. For a moment, she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of salt air; she had never smelled such a smell before, and it thrilled her. Then she followed after Coronilla's mount as they rode the last four hundred feet to the castle they would reside in for the duration of the spring and summer if all went well between the Narnians and the Telmarines.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Her eyes were wide when she beheld the majestic Centaurs and Dryads. They were beautiful, though she knew she would never be able to say such things aloud, and they seemed proud of their heritage, but at the same time kind and understanding. A young Centaur filly came and held the head of her mare as she dismounted– Hadassa was certain it was female because of the elegant way she had pinned back her waist-length auburn locks from her face with sprigs of mint and small pink rosebuds, and by the elegant bodice she wore.

She nodded in thanks as she slipped from her mare's sidesaddle; lowering her eyes in case the filly became outraged at her staring. She didn't want to ruin her guardian's hopes of making peace between Narnia and Telmar by staring in awe at such beautiful beings; however much she wanted to. She quickly fell behind her guardians as she had done all her life when attending balls and galas. After the soldiers had ensured their safety, and that Efrain no longer was in need of them, they galloped back out the gates the way they'd come.

Hadassa watched them leave out of the corner of her eye, before focusing on the stout herald running quickly up a few steps to announce them. Her eyes moved past the little man, and she found herself staring at the four monarchs of Narnia. As she took in their clothes, their quiet regality and refinement, she realized that she was most likely the first of any Telmarine girls her age to have seen the Narnian royalty. And what awing royalty they were, she thought to herself.

High King Peter was truly magnificent; his title suited him. His dark blonde hair just grazed his chin and well-kept beard, and hung straight under his gold crown. The famed sword Rhindon – of which many bards and minstrels had sung songs of – was at his side, his fingers lightly brushing against it. His loose, dark blue shirt seemed made of a fine fabric that she had never seen before, as were his fawn-colored breeches. While they climbed the stairs toward the herald and the monarchs, Hadassa could not cease her staring.

Queen Susan was breathtaking; she knew there must not be a lovelier woman in all the world. Her long black hair was not pinned up or covered by a veil like many Calormene women wore theirs. It was not pulled back from her face in an intricate Telmarine style, either. Instead it fell almost to the hem of her beautiful, shimmering green gown. It rippled and shone in the spring sun; the beautiful dark locks were as black as obsidian, and Hadassa noted small braids near the front holding the long tresses out of her face.

And Queen Lucy! Oh, Queen Lucy was beautiful, but in such a golden and fierce way. She looked like a warrior and yet a refined lady at the same time. Hadassa couldn't understand how that was possible, but hoped that she might come to understand while she resided here. Queen Lucy's waist-long blonde-brown hair glistened in the sun differently from her eldest brother's locks. Her skin was darker than her sister's, but smooth and a pleasant brown. Her dress was a deep red with yellow trim, and Hadassa could not understand what was so wrong with Narnian fashions.

The last king, standing beside his youngest sister, caught her eye when he moved. Inwardly she shuddered, suddenly understanding why the Telmarine nobles that had talked with and seen him called him the 'Dark King' instead of the Just King. He was far paler than his siblings – though Hadassa knew he fought in battle alongside his brother more often than not – and his eyes were dark; as she got closer, she thought there was nothing of warmth or kindness in them. His clothes… And she had believed the attire of _Telmarine_ men was dark.

Such black and somber attire… His hair, far thicker and blacker than her mare's dark mane, curled around his clean-shaven face, allowing for the fact that it would turn into ringlets if cut short. His silver crown was a sharp accent for the hints of thread in the same color embroidered on his loose black shirt. She studied him, trying to see if there was any hint of kindness in him, and soon found him looking into her eyes in a cold stare. A tremor of fear went down her back, and she tilted her head down once again. Not even King Isshiah made her afraid like King Edmund did. And King Isshiah was older, unbelievably cruel at times, and a ruthless warrior.

She curtsied with Coronilla, and then she and the Countess were whisked away from the others by Queen Susan after murmuring her gratitude. Though she felt she hadn't had enough time to see each of the Kings and Queens, she was grateful to be away from King Edmund. As she walked with Queen Susan and Coronilla, she realized with a sinking heart that she would be in the Dark King's presence for the duration of her stay here. She hoped he avoided people and stayed close to his own chambers as she'd heard gossips whisper in court.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

"Please come with me, Hadassa; I feel slightly dizzy and I don't want to tell Efrain; he hasn't been able to talk of political and important matters since he's been caring for me, I don't want to worry him. I'm simply tired from the journey and being under the hot Narnian sun," Coronilla murmured after Susan left them in a medium-sized room with mid-afternoon tea – only Narnians drank tea in the middle of the day – set out on a fine, small, honey-colored oaken table.

They walked in the direction which Susan had instructed led to their chambers in silence; Hadassa because she was taking in the beauty all around her, and Coronilla because she felt unwell. As they took a corner, who should they nearly knock off his feet but King Edmund. Hadassa took several steps back, fearful of him. He looked in a far darker attitude then he had when he'd stood to greet them. She was quick to lower her eyes and bow her head. Coronilla motioned for her to curtsy, and she did in barely enough time to match her guardian.

"I hope you are well, Countess; what has brought you to Cair Paravel; besides our letter, of course?" he asked, a smile coming across his features. Hadassa glanced at him, and wondered if many women found him handsome. She thought there was danger written across his face. He was not friendly, though his attitude toward them was soft. His eyes regarded them as if he was looking for flaws, she thought.

"I'm afraid it was my health, your Majesty. It has not been good of late, and the physicians of court say that the warmer climate and ocean air might be better for my constitution than the cool air of Telmar," Coronilla answered.

"I pray the air makes you well, Countess," he replied, a… gentle tone entering his voice? For a moment, Hadassa could have sworn to Xmede that a kind, concerned emotion crossed his rather stiff countenance, but then it was gone and she couldn't be certain.

"Yes, thank you. If you would excuse us, your Highness; Hadassa and I must retire for a short time after such a long ride. Women are not as strong as the men for such grueling cross-country travel, I fear," Coronilla stated, moving to Edmund's right so she might pass him. The girl was relieved she was on the left of Coronilla; she hadn't been forced to brush past Edmund as if she didn't notice his character. She was certain she couldn't have helped cringing if she'd touched him.

He murmured something to their backs, but neither woman stopped to hear what it was. Coronilla looked pale, and Hadassa made her main concerns become for her guardian.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So... yeah. This is from Hadassa's p.o.v. what do ya'll think? Like it/hate it? I decided to post this because ya'll are being so patient for some action and this isn't anything but rerun through a chapter you've read from Edmund's p.o.v.**

 **Xmede: For all who have read my profile, ya'll know who this is. A Telmarine god since C.S. Lewis didn't really give us gods for them (but they obviously had several, and none of them were Aslan). Hope no one minds this creative license!**

 **I want to start off with Hadassa afraid of Edmund instead of finding him attractive and interesting from the start like so many other OC/Pevensie sibling stories. I also want him to strongly dislike her.**

 **!Warning! Coming chapters _will_ deal with attraction and desire instead of love. And the reality that people can have a relationship based mostly on the physical and not the emotional feelings such as love and understanding. But I won't go into nitty gritty detail. I'll leave off scenes. Though I can guess that the people who have bothered to read this and review are pretty mature.**

 **Another note: Hadassa was raised in a land where the monarchs and subjects are descended from sixteenth century pirates. Meaning that the etiquette for women was they were basically property and not smart enough to decide things for themselves let alone talk back to the men as equals. Not exactly fair, and women got taken advantage of, but it was reality.**

 **You can even see this in the Prince Caspian film how ignored Pruniprismia was until she had the baby. Even then she was basically treated as arm ornamentation by Miraz. He only seemed to give her information in the bedroom because he wanted her to act on her motherly instincts and kill Caspian.**

 **In such a world only women who were shrewd, cunning, and malicious rose to the top (my Lady Heshlotte for instance). Kind, quiet, agreeable women and girls like Hadassa and Coronilla were fortunate if they married husbands that listened to them at all besides at night in the privacy of their bedroom. And Efrain is better than some men.**

 **Wow, Loooong A/N, sorry ya'll!**

 **All right, welcome DD and thanks for the review! I shall endeavor to "keep it coming!"**

 **Please review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter,**

 **WH**


	9. Line So Fine

Edmund feared sleep that night. He had dreaded it throughout the day, and it had given him a ghastly attitude; he wasn't sorry for this at all, however. As far as he was concerned, the Telmarines had done nothing in his eyes to merit kindness and affection from him. He lay in bed, feeling his heartbeat increase as he thought of the nightmares and the sleep that might chance to bring them. Edmund groaned, catching himself before he cried out in frustration and fear. He was no longer alone in this wing as he had been before; it would not do for the Count and Countess to hear him.

"The Dark King cannot seem to have a weakness," he whispered aloud, trying to still his quickening heartbeat. "I _have_ no weakness," he whispered, turning on his side.

In three hours, he was asleep. His dreams were relaxing, and sometime during them, he believed he heard the wonderful voice of Aslan, whispering to his scarred soul to find the peace it so desperately sought.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

He woke sometime just before dawn. Rising from bed, he was amazed he felt well-rested and in a much lighter mood. A sigh of happiness passed over his lips as he smiled. "Aslan be praised," he murmured, walking to his desk and writing materials. He felt like he might be able to pick up a quill once more.

After an hour of writing, he grew tired of putting his thoughts to paper, and began going over documents from court, and other edicts and issues he must review before putting to the rest of his siblings. A hint of a smile tugged at the sides of his mouth; he enjoyed such work immensely. Time passed as he worked his way through a large stack, and soon the sun was rising.

Glancing up, a cheerful light momentarily entered his eyes until the memories of the day before entered his mind. He scowled. Telmarines in his Narnia, walking down beautiful Cair's halls! If it hadn't been for a greater reason, he would have demanded they leave forthwith. Rising from his seat, he moved off to another room where his clothes were kept. He disliked that, and had insisted that all the clothes he needed could be kept in a wardrobe in his bedchamber, but Tumnus had insisted, and so had Peter.

Donning a pair of dark grey breeches, knee-high black boots, a loose black shirt and his dark cape, he placed his silver crown on his hair and left. When he opened the door to his bedchambers, he found Emrys and several wolves sitting in the darkened hall. The eyes of the Tigress and the wolves reflected the bright sunlight that beamed on them from Edmund's room before he closed the door, giving them what others might call an eerie effect.

Edmund smiled at them, reaching out his hand only to find that a large black wolf had thrust his head up to meet it. Stroking the sleek fur of the Talking Animal's head, he spoke in low tones to them. "And our guests?" he asked, looking to Emrys.

"Sleeping still. It is early yet, Sire, and not half the castle has stirred. Only you, King Peter, and a few of us," Emrys reported as she looked up at her king. Though it was hardly noticeable, she adored the man, and, when talked to for a time, might let slip that she would gladly die in his stead if given the chance.

"Well and good. And have any reported what they have seen as they roam in the secret places of this kingdom and those beyond? Has there been no news from those listening in the shadows?" He looked at the Tigress with a curious gaze, something dark kindling a black fire within his eyes. Had the wolves and Emrys been other animals, they might have become horrified to see this light that looked so similar to Jadis's entering Edmund's eyes. Instead, they seemed to accept him more because of it.

"Few have returned, my Lord. Those that have, whisper under cover of darkness that naught stirs. Some that are overheard complain about the good fortune of Narnia, and King Isshiah upon his throne worries that allowing his brother to come here, so close to you, is a dangerous thing. But, that is all. There is no word of the assassin, either." Emrys knew what Edmund most sought news of, and regretted giving him nothing. She could still recall a time when, under Jadis, she might have been whipped for returning with little or no information.

"Pity." A hard tone entered his voice. The mysterious assassin frustrated him, and he now wished the person hadn't escaped him.

"Forgive me, my Lord. I shall search out this information you seek if it pleases you." Emrys rose, dipping her head in a bow that had fascinated Edmund since he'd become king.

"It does not please me that you must venture forth yourself, Emrys. I do not wish you leave my side until these Telmarines leave this castle," Edmund declared firmly in an undertone.

A deep, rumbling purr emitted from the white Tigress when he spoke. She moved towards him silently and lightly rubbed her head against his side.

"My King, I am glad I serve under you." She growled playfully, and Edmund laughed.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Edmund stopped, halfway down the hall when he realized that he could not forgo the morning meal in favor of a hunt with the Stags and Wolves. Sighing in frustration, he slowly made his way in the opposite direction he had been going in. The wolves turned their heads questioningly, but when they scented on the air the fresh smells of the Telmarines, they had their answer. Growling to one another or giving short barks, they communicated in a simpler way than speech. After a moment of such noises, they scrambled after their king.

Guests or no, they would follow him wherever he decided to go today, be it the dining hall or out hunting with the Black Stags.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Edmund moved forward to open the dining hall's doors, but before he could act, two Centaurs stepped forward to push them inward. Edmund paused, once again being forced to remember that they had guests, and not all their guests were strong enough to open these doors, or had aid such as Emrys to push against them if they needed added strength. Sighing, he waited until they had been fully opened before walking into the room. Behind him, the wolves walked, slowly coming until they were packed close together around him.

Heads rose from their morning meal, among them the Lady Heshlotte. All appeared slightly taken aback by the large group of Animals; all except Edmund's siblings, Lord Peridan, Master Tumnus, and a few other Narnians gathered about. Edmund moved closer to the table, walking past Lady Heshlotte's chair. He paid no attention to the woman's staring. Suddenly, however, her cutting voice broke the silence with sharp words of outrage:

"Those are the very wolves that startled our horses yesterday afternoon as we arrived in Altair!"

Efrain looked up; he had gone back to his meal but this brought him sharply into focus on Edmund. He studied the wolves; realizing the Lady was right, he spoke up. "Yes, they should be punished for such as what they did; why, one of us might have been trampled or thrown perhaps!"

Edmund turned, looking over his subjects behind him carefully. "I know." His voice was cold with disinterest and annoyance. Mordred, the large black wolf that often led the pack – also the son of Maugrim – had informed him of this the day the Telmarines arrived, after the evening meal. Edmund resumed walking to the place that he typically dined in.

"Yet you do nothing?" Now the Baron appeared shocked.

Edmund turned to look at the Telmarines. "I shall do what I deem just for my servants. They are not _your_ responsibility. Long have they been forced to bow before the Witch, and well I know such pain. I do not punish with whip and cudgel; when I punish, you shall perhaps be fortunate – or _un_ fortunate, however you look at it – to learn how I deal with the disobedient and the sinner. My Wolves have done no wrong. They informed me of the incident, so I was not lost to the frightening chance encounter. I pardoned them; I suggest you find it in your hearts to do likewise." Edmund pulled back a chair and seated himself, whilst the Wolves sat around on the floor behind him.

The Telmarines looked taken aback, but Edmund did not glance in their direction to discuss the matter further. Lady Heshlotte appeared miffed, much to Lucy's amusement, and the Baron busied himself with his plate of food. Secretly, he wished to ask King Edmund a few things and also inquire if he might be allowed to be an observer during court. However, he knew his sister would never agree to such a thing, so he kept quite silent.

It was quiet for some time, only the clatter of plates and silverware could be heard, before Lady Heshlotte raised her voice again. "What do their Highnesses the Queens do here to amuse themselves? I thought perhaps I might like to come along as an unannounced addition to your party." Edmund scowled slightly, hating her clear, smooth voice already, though he hadn't even been in her presence for more than a half hour.

Susan was startled slightly, and she straightened her back until her posture was perfect, and somewhat stiff. Lucy cut her a glance, the question in her grey eyes clear: _What do we answer?_

"Well, at times we practice our weaponry, and then for a greater part of the midday, we are occupied with the court and caring for our kingdom. After this, we go about giving aid where aid needs be given, and keeping our medical skills honed in case of war or battle or siege. Sometimes, if I have the time, I take to training the archers; I far surpass many, and it is a good thing for their queen to teach them and work among them as a leader and equal." Susan smiled as she finished. Edmund could barely contain himself; he wished to laugh outright at the facial responses to his sister's declaration.

"Not as Telmar's women behave?" he murmured. Though the people at the table did not hear him, Mordred pricked his ears and issued a sharp bark, his equivalent of an agreeing laugh.

Everyone was startled, but they all visibly jumped when Edmund burst into laughter after gazing at their faces. Everyone stared at him, including his siblings, Lord Peridan and Tumnus, in surprise. Edmund tried to pause to explain, but quickly discarded the idea when he found he began laughing harder at Peter's expression of incredulity and puzzlement. After a few moments, in which his Wolves began howling along with him, he calmed and straightened, a somber look returning to his face.

"Had we mirrors in this hall, perhaps then you might understand my amusement." He looked down to his plate calmly after he spoke, as if nothing had happened; as if he hadn't just laughed for the first time in four months. Peter blinked rapidly, trying to regain a sense of calm, but he was perplexed. Edmund defied all, at times… he thought with a slight shake of his head. After that, Edmund talked little; he merely listened and nodded in agreement before excusing himself with the words "I must attend to some matters of court."

After he departed the room with his Wolves behind, Lady Heshlotte turned to look at King Peter for a moment. "Is the Just King always so…" she waved her hand in the air suggestively.

"I believe that is not for you to inquire upon." Lucy spoke up before Peter could formulate a vague reply. She did not like her brother's sanity being questioned. Heshlotte blinked, but did not push the matter further. Susan and Peter shared glances, wondering what sort of mood Edmund had slipped into now.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, it's the weekend, and I supposed I might as well give ya'll another chapter! I really don't have much to say on this, except that it's the following morning after the previous chapter. Mordred is an OC of mine, and he has appeared in another fanfic as a completely different Wolf, though he was also related to Maugrim then.**

 **This is a bit of a brighter Edmund, I must say. Yes, at times he will be bright and normal; he was not dark all the time! Just when the nightmares took hold and all the world appeared shaded by darkness and pain in his eyes. So... He might go kinder and brighter some days during this whole thing. Then despair will take hold, just as sometimes happens to me and I cannot seem to write or anything for awhile. It is a "line so fine" as the chapter is titled.**

 **Thanks everyone for all the wonderful reviews; I can truly say they keep chapters coming at such a rapid pace! I promise things will begin to warm up soon. I just really would like this to be believable, and doing that means a lot of boring prologue, I'm afraid.**

 **R &R,**

 **WH**


	10. Nothing To Me

Edmund gazed out across the vastness of Narnia from a west-facing terrace. It had been long since he'd gone to his part of the kingdom. Perhaps he should take his leave of these dull Telmarines and visit the forest of the West, talk with the Animals there, practice with magic again, and remember a simpler time; the time when his rule had not seemed to burden him with depressing memories of his days with Jadis and the threat of war with Telmar. He bowed his head, dark locks falling to frame his face.

He had asked Mordred and the Wolves to leave him for a time, so he was alone with his thoughts; rare were such times now, and he relished them. So lost in memories of the beauty of the Western Wood was he that he did not hear the soft footsteps of feet clad in satin slippers, nor the swish of layered fabrics of a gown. The startled gasp of surprise, however, he easily heard. He turned to face the unknowing intruder of his solitude.

 **~|:O:|~**

Coronilla and Efrain were invited to walk in the gardens with Queen Susan, as they had asked about medicine and other aspects of the main reason they had traveled to Narnia in the first place. Coronilla, believing that Hadassa need not partake of the topic, told her she should find something to occupy her time until they returned. Queen Lucy quickly suggested going to the west terrace and watching the sun set behind the Twilight Mountains to the West. Coronilla and Efrain thought this a reasonable thing, so she and Queen Lucy set out for the terrace.

Not a hundred paces from the terrace entrance, a nimble doe sprinted up to Queen Lucy's side and declared that there was a dispute between the Squirrels and the Dwarves about nuts for the evening meal's dessert. The pretty Doe declared an all-out food war may take place unless she came to settle the matter. The Queen glanced at Hadassa.

"Forgive me, but I must go sort this situation through. But please go on without me. I assure you, I have seen such sunsets a thousand times, I can miss one. The terrace is just through that entrance," Lucy declared, pointing. Hadassa turned from looking at the Narnian Queen to find the entrance, which she did quite easily.

"I wish you could join me," she said as she curtsied.

Lucy laughed a pretty, tinkling laugh, and then clasped Hadassa's hands as she declared merrily; "I do think we should become fast friends while you visit here!" With that, she released the girl and turned, her elegant yet simple blue skirt swishing, and ran nimbly after the Doe. Hadassa marveled at the Queen's strength and agility before going on her way.

She walked out into the terrace and turned the corner just as Queen Lucy said; that was the best way to watch the sunset from this point, the Queen had informed her wen they'd begun walking here. She started and then gasped, though she quickly covered her mouth with her hand. The one person she had hoped to not meet. She couldn't avoid him, and she couldn't turn, because he turned first.

She quickly ducked her head, hoping he might ignore her and go back to what he was doing. She suddenly wished she had not gone on without Queen Lucy. She wished it had been anyone other than King Edmund on the terrace.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund stared at her, eyes cold. " _The daughter of that knight… Lady Hadassa, was that her name? What is she doing here? How– Aslan forbid that she has lost her way in Cair because I. Will. Not. Help her if she is."_ He found himself growing greatly annoyed with her holding her head down like that, it reminded him of Emrys when she'd first come to him. He hated such actions of fear; it repulsed him.

"Are you lost?" The words came from his mouth short and devoid of any sympathy.

"No." Her head still bowed, her entire demeanor still displaying unease and fear toward him. His brown eyes darkened considerably with annoyance.

"Seeking out the Count and Countess, perhaps?" He knew that he would rather be alone at this moment, to keep from sinking into a mood, but he was not, and he must try and be civil for his sibling's, and Narnia's, sake.

"No, my lord King," she murmured.

Edmund inwardly cursed the girl. "If you would excuse me, milady, but I have matters that I must attend to." He nodded, moving toward the arched entrance she was standing just inside of. Something made him pause beside her. He looked over and down at her. She kept her head lowered. Without giving it much thought, he reached out his arm and forcibly tilted her head at a more natural angle. He quickly pulled his hand back when an odd sensation tingled down his fingers.

She hesitantly met his eyes, and he could see fear and unease deep within them. He was experiencing his own discomfort. What had that been? He glanced at his hand, moving forward a little before pausing a moment. He was unaware that Hadassa looked at his hand as well; wondering what was wrong, but too frightened to speak.

"Don't cower like that, I hate such timidity." He managed to pass the insult before walking away, still troubled.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa watched him go; she forced herself to resist the urge to shake in relief that he was finally gone. How the expression that had flitted across his dark brown eyes frightened her! She thought he looked ready to strike her on the face when he retracted his hand so quickly. She touched her chin, remembering the coolness of his fingertips against her skin there. The sensation had been so strange…

She closed her eyes, remembering it. Dark brown eyes with a sudden emotion of surprise flashed in her mind's eye. She quickly opened her eyes again, heart beating slightly faster. He had felt something too, then… Yet he had hidden it, why? His words echoed in the back of her mind. He hated timidity. He hated her fear of him. She shuddered at the strong word. He must hate her as well, if he hated her actions. She recalled hearing of his hate for all the Telmarine people at court once, from King Isshiah's own mouth.

For a moment, she was angry. He hardly knew the Telmarine people, why should he harbor such adamant dislike for a people he did not truly know? Forcing the troublesome thoughts from her mind, she moved to the rail to watch the rest of the sunset. A soft smile came to her lips; Queen Lucy had indeed been correct, the sunset from this vantage point was most lovely.

 **~|:O:|~**

"But, Phillip, I have never felt this before when I touched someone to correct them in a mistake. It was the sensation you feel after working days on a spell, when you finally stumble across the right conclusion of thoughts and words," Edmund tried to explain. He paced back and forth slowly in front of Phillip's open stall door. Just inside the same entrance, Emrys sat, watching Edmund and lightly flicking the end of her tail.

"It seems to me to be something of note indeed," Phillip agreed, bobbing his head before shaking his mane to rid himself of a pesky fly. How they did bite incessantly!

"Perhaps you do not like her?" Emrys suggested dryly. She knew of his dislike of the Telmarines for what they had done to him in the past, and so could not understand his worry over this one small matter. "It is as when two tigresses meet. If we are to be good in a pack, we touch noses and lick each other's faces. But instantly, if there is dissent and friction, the air between us is charged with something untouchable; however, we sense it is there," she recited from experience.

"But this is not hate, Emrys! And it troubles me…" Edmund exclaimed, stopping and staring from the Horse to the Tigress. Phillip suddenly whinnied. The King glanced at him with a frown.

"This is the most animated I've seen you since… Well… The day –"

"Don't. You. Say. It." Edmund interrupted, staring hard at the Horse. He did not wish to be reminded of that day, not at all. He need not be reminded of when he cut Peter's hair in his sleep. In fact, the memory of the dignitary meeting the following morning, with Peter wearing a hood, still caused him to cringe. No, no, that was not necessary to remember. The part worth remembering was that he had not gotten caught; unless four years later counted…

"I wasn't going to say anything!" Phillip declared, looking away casually as if he had not been about to speak of the subject.

"Perhaps you should study her; perhaps something is telling you that she is more than a silly, frightened girl here with her guardians. What if she is a spy for King Isshiah?" Emrys suggested, looking pointedly at the King with crystal blue eyes.

Edmund stared back intently, the thought forming in his mind as he tried to piece it with the sensation. It didn't feel as if the two went together, but it was a possibility. "Perhaps," he agreed; however, he would dwell on it for a bit, see if anything came of it. The one problem, however, was he felt oddly that nothing would.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, here's another chapter for ya'll! Sorry it's back to being short, but this was all that wanted to be in this chapter, apparently! So... the untold story about Edmund cutting Peter's hair may be reserved for a chapter in my drabble-quotes for Narnia, if there is enough interest.**

 **Though there's adamant fear and dislike, there's also a bit of interest between the two, which will be very interesting from my perspective to watch unfold... More Emrys for all who love her, by the way! I cannot believe how much positive feedback I get about the pale Tigress; it's amazing! And, presenting Phillip the Talking Horse for everyone who loves Phillip-with-Edmund! I must admit I love the Andrew Adamson OC myself...**

 **So, I shall explain why Edmund is going on about magic with a quote taken from VotDT:**

 _"...Eustace rushed toward the picture, and Edmund, who knew something of magic, sprang after him..."_

 **There you have it. I realized that this must have a deeper meaning. I believe it means more than reference to knowing about Narnia. If it meant Narnia and the magic of going between worlds, don't you think C.S. Lewis would have written it more like this:**

 _"...Eustace rushed toward the picture, and Edmund, who knew about this sort of magic, sprang after him..."_

 **Lewis didn't write it this way, and the reason? Because how in the world could Edmund have known it was good magic or Aslan pulling them into Narnia? Sure he must have suspected because of the times before, but remember that in those times, things had just changed; like the train station and the back of the wardrobe.**

 **The picture that suddenly came alive was much slower; what with the water filling the room and them having to swim or drown. This was a more deadly magic, and I can bet that he wasn't certain it was Aslan. He must have known about the Rings at this time, since quite obviously they told Digory all about their first Narnia adventure when they lived with him in the country.**

 **I do think he would have told them of his, too. So Edmund knows that magical things can be in our world, and he might have guessed that this picture came from another world by some sort of device like Jadis came to our world and the Cabby went into Narnia and never came back.**

 **Wouldn't he, as a king in Narnia, have become interested in magic and wondered if he might be able to use it to defend his country? I do think it quite possible. And it is an easy thing to think of, you know. Edmund saw the Witch use magic, and realized that it was possible to use such for good as well as evil of wielded by the right person.**

 **Sorry... just an idea to go on.**

 **Shout-out to Fiordineve because she is quite fantastic, _and_ a very faithful reader of this little story! Thanks, you and your input matter :) **

**Now, welcome Nicola4Sparkle, Anna, and gangui! I hope this story interests you and you keep on reading it! Reviews with advice, input, and your thoughts are quite helpful to me, all right?**

 **WH**


	11. Can You Not See

Hadassa tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Her maid had just finished helping her dress for this evening's festivities, and though she was excited, she was a bit nervous. She stared into the mirror before her on the dressing table. Her dark, dark blue eyes looked almost black in this light. She studied her dress, hoping it was better suited for this ball than the last one had been. It was a lighter summer dress, with fewer layers. Hopefully she might be able to dance better in it.

"Hadassa, Hadassa!" Coronilla entered her chambers, beckoning impatiently. "Come, girl; we must go down to the ballroom; everyone is waiting!" she declared.

"Yes, I'm coming milady!" Hadassa answered quickly, rising and moving towards her bedroom door. She glanced back into her room once more before turning and leaving.

 **~|:O:|~**

"Peter, perhaps you dance with Lady Heshlotte and I dance with the Baron? After all… Edmund and the Lady do not seem to get along," Susan whispered to Peter as they walked around the ballroom floor talking with various guests.

"Yes, that seems favorable. But then he must dance with Lady Hadassa, and he seems to find her weak and pathetic; have you noticed?" Peter remarked, glancing over at the young lady in question standing near Countess Coronilla.

"Lucy is talking with the Duke, and in Telmar women don't dance together, so he simply must dance with her; at least once," Susan pressed firmly. She knew Edmund disliked everyone at the moment, but he had to do what was best for the country, not himself at the moment. She loved her brother, but she was also a diplomat for Narnia. She could not let her past dealings with Prince Rabadash upset relationships with Calormen.

"I shall tell him, then," Peter replied after a moment.

"Good. I must go talk with Countess Coronilla. She looks to be faring much better after the herbs administered, don't you agree?" Susan commented, smiling and subtly gesturing to the woman. The older set parted ways; Peter to look for the younger set and inform Edmund of the plan, and Susan to talk with the Countess.

 **~|:O:|~**

"I will not dance with that… that orphan that should be no more than a beggar after her father's death! She is fortunate to even be here, she is not high enough from the dust for me to even discuss matters of court with, let alone take as my _dance_ partner!" Edmund hissed darkly, looking threatening when Peter told him of the plans for the evening.

"And who murdered her father, Edmund?" Peter asked, his own expression darkening.

"You know what he did; you know what he said; I had every right!" Edmund whispered back, his eyes blazing with dreadful hate, the hate that Peter despaired to see there.

"Do not let the sins of the father become unknowingly inherited by the children, Edmund!" Peter replied sharply.

"That is why I shall never marry, because mine shall!" His voice grew pained, and he seemed to withdraw slightly. Peter started; Edmund had never told him this before.

"What?" Peter's eyes held a slightly bewildered look.

"I do not repeat myself, brother." Edmund straightened slightly, staring down at his brother. Peter might have scowled at the little reminder that Edmund was two inches taller than he, if not for the fact that Edmund had just told Peter why he refused to accept any of the women that had been presented to him by kingdoms across Lumea.

"Dance with the girl. If you don't, I shall tie you to your bed and publicly set a ban against you leaving this castle for the remainder of the year," Peter threatened nonchalantly after several minutes of silence passed between the brothers, a smile coming to his face before he walked off. Edmund inhaled sharply, watching his brother.

 _"Fine then! I dance with the girl that should not be here by all rights."_ He walked across the ballroom, searching out the Telmarine before the next dance.

He looked around the room before seeing her. He began walking to her, but slowed, a dark look coming across his face. Her father, how he despised that man! The knight had brought him nothing but pain when he had been in Telmar. Now he must curry favor with the dead man's daughter? After warring with his thoughts, he reluctantly approached the girl.

Coronilla saw the King before her charge did.

"Might the Lady Hadassa wish to dance?" Edmund asked courteously, though his voice was anything but. He bowed slightly when the girl turned to look at him, his dark cape brushing the floor. He looked up, keeping his eyes on hers as he rose and extended his hand.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa jumped when the Dark King's voice came from behind her. Turning with a bit of shock, her eyes widened slightly. He was offering to dance with her? She did not want to dance with the man, he horrified her! He was so cold, so emotionless. He hated her; she could see it in his eyes now. But, the Countess… She glanced back at the woman, and Coronilla subtly motioned for her to accept the King's hand. Hesitantly, she reached out her arm.

His long fingers did not shake slightly as her's did. His breath was not unsteady as he waited. He simply stood there, as if his coldness had made him a statue. She wanted to snatch her hand away after she'd placed it in his. But she was also fascinated, and watching their hands was much easier than looking into his face. Her fingers were so much smaller than his, and though his were tapered and fine, hers seemed more so.

"Milady." His voice forced her to look from their linked hands to his face. He gestured to the dance floor. She nodded, allowing him to lead her away, once more bowing her head. When they reached the floor, she knew what she should do, but didn't want to look at him; dark eyes full of an emotion she couldn't comprehend.

Though she expected his hand on her waist, it startled her and she inhaled sharply. She was not enjoying their close proximity, and from his stiff composure, he was just as pained. "Could you please put your hand on my shoulder so that this night perhaps flows a bit faster?" His voice shook her from her thoughts and she nodded, finally forced to look up as he lead her in the dance steps. He was much taller than she realized.

He stopped staring over her head and met her eyes. "Do you enjoy dancing?" he asked, a mildly bored tone in his voice.

"I am fond, but not overly enthused about the exercise," she answered truthfully. Perhaps if he did not like dancing, and she didn't, he would leave her alone.

"I feel the same, but my brother insists I dance with you. I cannot understand why he does not take the occupation upon himself, since quite obviously you fear me," he declared bluntly, looking at her carefully.

"I– I do not _fear_ you!" she retorted, though slightly uncomfortable with the fact that he was correct.

"Of course you do, and your words of denial only confirm my supposition," Edmund answered, a triumphant smile coming across his features. Hadassa said nothing, looking away slightly. Meeting his eyes was more troubling then she had thought it would be.

"Then if you say I fear you, I must ask why you hate me." She wanted to laugh at her victory, for she felt him recoil slightly, though not too far away from her, and look frustrated and outraged.

"And why do you think that?" He leaned down slightly. She pulled away, staring into his eyes.

"Because there is so much hate in your eyes when you look at me; I have wondered why, but have only now found the courage to ask the question," she answered, trying to force her fear down and act unafraid of him. He was no more than a tyrant; cruel and heartless!

"You are a child, you cannot possibly understand!" He threw her age back in her face viciously, straightening and staring down at her with annoyance.

"You are no gentleman; if you were, you would have better manners! You would not attack me as if I was some enemy. I know nothing of politics between my country and this one; I do not care for your clarified hate of my country either! Be civil or stay away," she spat the words out before remembering to whom she was speaking.

Her eyes met his; she was too furious to bother fearing him any longer. He was nothing; not even worthy of the place he held beside his siblings! He was merely fortunate enough his god had blessed him with forgiveness and the right to rule.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund was shocked by her whispered outburst. So she _could_ fight like her father. Some part of him, he didn't know if it was his twisted side or the fair and moral part of him, enjoyed that she could put him in his place with only a few words. Respect glinted in his eyes. She was more of her father than Peter thought. In a few years, if she kept close to Isshiah, she would be a fierce hater of Narnia as Vézian had been.

"Then what am I?" He voiced the question, wanting to see how she would respond.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, this will be continued into the next chapter, but I had to separate them because that would've made the whole chapter 4,000 words, and I'm trying to avoid exceedingly long chapters on this story! I have found that long chapters are difficult for busy people to read. Better short chapters updated frequently then long chapters updated slowly.**

 **So... tell me if this is too much or what, I dearly want to know what ya'll think!**

 **I am so surprised by how many reviews and follows this story has; I never expected this to be so well-received! You guys keep me writing! :)**

 **Question ya'll: What does the cover photo of this story look like? I'm asking because the one I've created doesn't seem to stay up very long. Please let me know in a review!**

 **WH**


	12. How Different We Are

Hadassa was startled, and stopped moving in the dance steps. He had not reprimanded her for her words; he wanted her to continue? She looked at him, but could not tell if he was baiting her to make a mistake or if he had suddenly found an ounce of respect for her instead of blind hate. Baiting or not, she wanted to answer the question he put to her before she lost her bravery.

"You are a snake and a thief in the shadow; a sick man who cares not for anyone; can you really love anything?" She couldn't believe for a moment that she had taunted him in such a fashion; from where did she get her right? Heart pounding, breath slightly uneven, she waited for his retaliation.

 **~|:O:|~**

Her words startled him; was this how the world perceived him outside of those who knew him? Or were these merely the words of a girl that had been verbally abused and insulted? Had the setting been different, he knew he might have struck her. Instead, he pulled her from the dance floor and down a corridor. This argument he did not need anyone to overhear.

Once in the room, he released her hand from his and slammed the door behind them. Turning, he regarded her coldly. "Do you truly think me nothing more than a monster secluded in his castle, biding his time to strike?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa had been startled when he'd jerked her from the ballroom. She had wanted to scream, but an overwhelming urge to bury her fear and face the thing that had frightened her without good reason since she'd arrived, overcame her uncertainty. She nearly ran to keep stride with him; unwilling he should practically drag her down the hall.

When he'd slammed the door, she had not thought of how to escape, but of what to say to him. She caught her breath, steadying herself as he turned around, breathing heavily himself. She stared back as he spoke.

"Do you truly think me nothing more than a monster secluded in his castle, biding his time to strike?"

"I don't think you a monster, I think you a twisted man so overcome by shadow that you cannot escape it! I have heard you are at times glad and content with life, but that you also fall into despair and bitterness, lashing out at anyone near enough to you that you can hurt! I have heard whispers from gossips in my court that you cry out in the dead of night for the Witch, Jadis, in your sleep; perhaps you miss her company, since like revels in like?" she answered harshly. If he would give no quarter and show no mercy, she would do the same.

"How _dare_ you." His tone was quiet and not loud as it had been. "You do not know me; you should not speak of things you do not know, little girl," he snarled, though he trembled slightly at her words. Did some part of him indeed long for the Witch?

"I am no more a 'little girl' than you are a small boy! Simply because I am young does not mean I am ignorant of you and your cunning and hate," she retorted quickly.

"You know nothing of reality; nothing of pain. You do not know what is in my soul," he answered sharply, taking a few steps closer, though there was still quite a bit of room between them.

"And yet some have said that a man's soul is betrayed by his actions toward others. If you had a heart, if you knew how to love, don't you think you would have shown a little before now?" She asked, regarding him with a cool manner she never knew she possessed.

The King's eyes widened slightly. But quickly a mysterious smile colored his face. "You think to fell me by my own words?" he asked curiously. Hadassa stared. He had written those words? Her father's favorite book had been written by King Edmund?

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund was growing bored with this. His anger was spent, and he wanted to be alone. He was tired of this girl that thought she could fight him with her wit and intelligence. She would never match him; however, she could silence him. He didn't forget that. He enjoyed, however, watching her bite back a retort when he told her she had recited his words. Perfectly, as it were, but he wasn't going to tell her _that_.

"Lady Hadassa, I believe we have forgotten whom we are addressing. You that I am a king, and I, that you are the daughter of a knight. I was asked to dance with you, not argue personalities. Forgive me for allowing my emotions to carry me away." He moved toward a wall, leaving her space to walk to the door. "Go, please. Forgive my attitude." He motioned to the door yet again.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa stared. He was giving up? He wanted her to leave, after all that had gone on. After all he had said; he wanted her to walk away as if it had not happened? She frowned, wondering why he was backing up to the wall, until she noticed the faint outline of a door in it. Hardly noticeable, but in this light, she could see it barely. "No, I must know why you hate me!" She walked forward a few steps.

He straightened, backing up into he could reach out and touch the wall behind him if he wished it. "I am the King of Narnia; I order you to leave, wretch!" His voice took on an imperious tone, and she retreated from his verbal blow.

Tears pricked her eyes at his insult. She blinked thick dark lashes several times before focusing on him again. She had one thing more to say to him if she never said another word, she would say these. "Here in this land they call you the "Just King." I say it is not a fitting title. You are a dark king, a black king, a… a traitor. 'Just' does not fit you, and I do not think it ever shall!" Her voice rose at the end, and she moved to leave the room.

She cried out half in surprise and half in fear when his hand roughly grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn and face him. "I tried to be courteous to you after all that had been said between us; I was willing to apologize for my behavior because you are a guest and I should not have spoken out of turn, but now I should just strike you across that willful mouth of yours and rescind all my apologies! You do not know me, do not call me a traitor!" he whispered sharply.

"The title so close to the truth offends you? One might think you would be honored I discovered your true colors in a matter of days!" she answered, her voice trembling slightly.

"How d –!" He broke off shouting, but she flinched, quickly turning her face for the blow she expected. Efrain had slapped her a time or two for speaking out of turn, she was not unfamiliar with such actions. "How dare you; don't look away from me after what you've said, meet my eyes!" His voice was not as full of unbridled wrath as before, now more annoyance.

 **~|:O:|~**

He disliked her sudden submission when he knew she could argue with him as an equal. Playing that card after the words she had spoken only increased his anger. He put his fingers under her chin and sharply forced her to look at him. Whatever he had been going to say he found he couldn't. The sensation of the day before, times ten, assailed him, and he found he wanted to stand closer to her. When he tried to, however, she backed away, but came up against the door. Something in the back of his mind told him he should not be trying to pursue this, but he banished the thought.

"Hadassa," he whispered her name, half conscious that he was doing so, as he looked down at her.

 **~|:O:|~**

When he'd walked closer, she had moved back, hoping that the door would swing into the hall and not the opposite. As if the object had conspired against her, she couldn't open it, so instead she found herself looking up at the king, reminded of how much taller he was and that she would not be able to move away before he caught her again.

"Hadassa…" She froze when he uttered her name. Something had changed; he didn't look angry, he looked… longing? Her breathing increased slightly when she met his eyes, wondering what exactly he was doing. His fingers brushed against her skin; she was acutely aware of the sensation that trembled down her spine. Something in her wanted to lean into his touch, but she was more aware of the fact that she was in this position with a king of Narnia. That he had just ridiculed her and argued with her.

He was focusing on the sense of attraction she also felt and not true emotions. He was not one for emotions; he was not a man capable of love, she told herself. Passion, perhaps; Efrain had mentioned and been certain to note Edmund's passion for what he believed in in the court and in battle. But not love. Never could the Just King love in the way Hadassa and every maid like her wanted a man's love.

Before he did something he would regret and that would shame her were they caught, she reached up and put her hand firmly on his chest, pushing him back. This was inappropriate; surely he of all men knew that? Her eyes met his again. Brown eyes filled with surprise and sudden realization looked back.

"Sire, surely you must be aware –"

"Yes… yes…" he whispered the word, his voice slightly ragged, stepping back from her. Uncertainty still filled his eyes, and the look he cast her was carelessly unguarded and filled with longing; so much so that she had a feeling he could not control or was even aware of it. "You… must go, please," he requested. Edmund knew that were she to remain another moment he would do something regretful.

Hadassa glanced at the king uncertainly, before turning and opening the door in a nervous rush.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund stared at the door for several seconds before visibly trembling. What had he nearly done? Giving in to the feelings that lit in him when she was too close like that was foolishness! He was acting more a fool than a Telmarine ambassador. Had the girl not been so much clearer minded, he was certain his actions would have caused political damage. But now he faced the realization that he was most certainly attracted to the daughter of the man he'd hated and killed. Whatever would he do now?

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Oh boy! In the words of Miraz "now we get to it!" Interesting stuff, interesting stuff! I can't wait to get feedback from all you wonderful readers! :)**

 **Fiordineve, here's something to get you excited and then frustrated because it was a missed-kiss. Sorry, but I kinda love watching this work, besides, can't have romance happen too fast!**

 **Welcome to the Guest Reviewer (unless you're the previous one) and 'a reader' I am continuing, are you pleased?**

 **Ya'll surely know the drill by now, even still: R &R! Happy reading and happy Hols, everyone! **

**WH**


	13. The Darker Side of Good

Hadassa shook once she closed the door. She pressed her back up against the wall beside it, silent sobs wracking her shoulders. That had to have been the most frightening experience she had ever encountered in all her seventeen years. She covered her mouth with her hand and looked both ways down the darkened corridor before slowly sinking to the floor. She was entirely spent, and unsettled. She had been pressed to accept an advance in the past, but had never felt in kind. She had never wanted to give in so badly before.

In a few moments, she decided she would retire from the ball for the evening. Rising and ensuring that she was presentable, she found a servant and informed the kind Doe that she was feeling tired, and to let the Count and Countess know she had retired early to her rooms because of this. The gentle brown deer nodded and then walked off quietly toward the ballroom. Hadassa watched her for a moment before continuing on her way to her room. A good sleep might clear her head and remind her of the man that was the Just King.

He was no prince charming, no knight of the stories that would try to win a fair lady's heart. He was a dark and twisted man bent on using people until his objective had been reached. She was certain he would not let things become so out of hand again. He would remember his hate quick enough to avoid another uncomfortable scene.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund reclined back on a couch in the room, exhaling heavily. Tilting his head to stare up at the ceiling, he replayed the moment. How had he allowed this to run away with his sense? Later, after the ball, his siblings found him and lectured him about leaving when they had guests to entertain. Lucy jokingly declared that he must have danced Hadassa until the girl was too tired to stand, as she had sent a servant to inform her guardians that she was retiring for the rest of the evening.

He hid his knowledge of the real reason for her sudden exhaustion well, and declared himself also tired, and that he would not attend dinner that evening either.

"But, Edmund, why ever will you not attend?" Lucy regarded her brother curiously.

"I am tired, Lucy, as the Lady Hadassa is tired. Balls and dancing drain me; this needless frivolity and hiding of true character bores me to no foreseeable end." He looked over at her where she sat on the opposite end of the couch.

"I'd say more than dancing has drained you. You look worse than you do after an unsuccessful argument with me," Peter observed dryly, wondering what had put his brother in this state.

Edmund instantly stiffened. "What are you implying, brother?" he asked coolly.

"He's implying nothing, Edmund! We're all simply tired after using so much energy at the ball this evening that we're reading more into each other than is truly there!" Susan declared with a hint of false cheer. She did not want Edmund to become worse. Keeping him from a shouting match with Peter would prevent such things.

Peter glanced at her curiously before realizing what he had nearly done. He looked at his sister with gratitude.

"I love you, but your company tires me," Edmund remarked after several minutes of Lucy talking about mundane things pertaining to the ball. She appeared a little surprised that he would say that.

"Well, I'll inform Tristan of your plans. I'm certain she will be upset; she always enjoys your compliments when you dine with us," Lucy begged, resting her hand on his arm. Tristan was the brown Talking Hare who happened to be head cook and garden keeper. She had scolded Edmund and Phillip years ago when they would invade the palace garden, but she truly enjoyed the King and his antics. Since he'd grown she tried many dinners in hopes that they would please him or perhaps tease a smile onto his face.

"Just send dinner up to me. I believe I'll work on the Ettin treaty between the Baron and the Northern Giants; I have put it off for too long. Perhaps we could go for a walk down the beach tomorrow morning, Lucy?" Edmund suggested with a wan smile, trying to cheer her some way. He hated to see her dulled because of his attitude.

"I will hold you to that promise," Lucy warned with a happy smile, jumping up, leaning over to embrace him and give a parting kiss on the cheek before turning with Susan and Peter to exit the room for the dining hall.

Edmund watched them go, and once the door closed, he sighed, letting his façade fall. If he did not rein this in, he might ruin the chances Narnia would ever have of making peace with the Telmarines. If he could not put off this attraction, he knew he would go to the West until they'd gone. His siblings would never forgive him if he pursued this.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Hadassa woke the next morning to a knock on her bedchamber door. Smiling sleepily, she watched the warm yellow sunlight filter in through the balcony before calling for the person to enter. Her maid, Maria, entered the room, a bright smile on her face. Though only a year older than Hadassa, she would marry the head groom of Efrain's estate when they returned to Telmar. Maria braided her dark hair in a crown round her head, and the olive green skirt of her gown was covered by a pristine white apron.

"Did you sleep well, my lady?" she asked, moving to a curtained window and opening it wide.

"I suppose," Hadassa replied in a distracted manner. Truthfully, she had remained up quite late thinking about the strange episode with King Edmund.

"That is pleasant news. I always believe it is good for one to have a pleasant sleep so that they face the coming day with a cheerful attitude and a kind heart," Maria remarked, removing a dark grey dress from a large honey-oak wardrobe and laying it across the end of the bed. Hadassa watched her as she moved back to the wardrobe and began removing a chemise to go under the gown and two pleated petticoats to flare the skirt.

"Maria, might I ask you a rather... personal question?" Hadassa looked at the busy maid intently as she went to pour water into the washbasin, wondering what her answer might be to such a query.

"Milady, when you say this word 'personal' I cannot specify its boundaries. What is it you are asking of me?" The maid smiled, clasping her hands absently as she looked at her mistress once she had finished her tasks.

Hadassa looked away, tracing meaningless patterns into the downy comforter. "I... The question... How did you feel around the stable groom before you knew you might wish to become his wife?" She glanced hesitantly up at the older girl.

Maria smiled happily. "Oh, Milady, what a silly, simple question; none too private, if I might say!" she chuckled slightly, pulling the bedclothes back and motioning for Hadassa to stand and move to the washbasin.

"I felt shy at first, slightly uncertain when he smiled only for me. But after a time, I felt this... wonderful, warm feeling blossom in my chest, knowing he cared for me in a way I had only dreamed a man might. I did not know at first if we were meant to be, but... I know now." Maria dried Hadassa's neck and face with a thick towel before bringing over the corset and other undergarments for the dress she would wear that day.

"You were never afraid or... felt as if you wished he was not near you?" Hadassa asked casually, thinking hard as Maria tightened the stays in the corset, constricting her ability to breathe deeply. Her waist, slim already, seemed unbelievably small now.

"That does not sound like a good match; in fact it sounds an abusive, frightful one. I know there are such, but they are few. Why do you ask about such things?" Maria glanced at Hadassa's face in the mirror with concern as she moved to gently pull the dress over her head and down around her waist, over her petticoats.

"I had heard my guardians talking of marriage... and I wondered what one was to feel toward a possible husband; you seemed a lady of experience and the only woman here I might approach with such concerns," Hadassa replied with a smile.

"I understand; I think there is nothing wrong with a lady coming to her maid with questions as some might, however. Much better than being forced to ask a stranger or another woman you cannot entirely trust," Maria agreed, lacing up the back of the dress.

"Thank you for understanding," Hadassa turned and looked at the older girl gratefully, nodding slightly. But now she had a much larger problem to dwell on: clearly she did not care for the King. If this was not love, then what was it?

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

"I wish a word with you, your Highness."

Edmund turned, startled, when the voice addressed him. Whirling to face the unfamiliar speaker, he found it was the Lady Heshlotte. He regarded the woman with a disinterested air, though he wondered why she had traipsed nearly a quarter of Cair only to search him out to talk with. Analyzing her from head to toe, he finally spoke.

"You will only get an answer if the question is a reasonable one," he informed her brusquely.

"I did not say I was asking, merely that I was wanting for a moment of your time," Heshlotte retorted somewhat coyly. Edmund regarded her with more care. She was a noble, but nobles were not above killing kings. He was alone, and there would be no one to come to his aid should he need it.

"And I am listening." He smiled in a way that would make even the brave of heart feel their blood run cold. There was something ominous behind it, and he knew from the way Heshlotte regarded him that she could see it. She was very good about hiding her feelings, he mused, giving her silent praise for that. It was no easy task to hid one's feelings. You must be a master at hiding them or have none at all to achieve such invulnerability.

"You are no fool, and neither am I. My brother is not a shrewd enough man to run his estates, and everyone knows that. Though it is... uncommon for a woman to reside as mistress over an estate as large and vast as my brother's, it has happened before," Lady Heshlotte paused, staring at Edmund, meeting his gaze directly and evenly.

"Go on," Edmund allowed, nodding ever so slightly.

"I know you have spies; mercenaries that should do you bidding and plunge a dagger into an unsuspecting heart in the dark with merely a flick of your wrist. I know what the world only suspects: you are of the dark ones. You reside here as a fair and benevolent ruler when you are in all truth nothing of the kind. I have a few spies of my own, O great King, and I know that you are not so far from the Fallen as your goodhearted, trustingly blind subjects and siblings believe," she leaned close and whispered the words in his ear, serpent-like.

Some part of him enjoyed these words, fed on them as if there were praise. But he said nothing; he only looked down at her as she pulled back to her normal position before him. "So, I should send one of my own to murder your brother while he sleeps?" Edmund looked at her and smiled icily. He was horrified that some twisted part of him screamed to agree to her request; some part of him begged and railed against his conscience to do as she had asked.

"Such harsh words..." Heshlotte's face shifted into a look of disgust and contempt for the words he had used. "Perhaps 'he died in his sleep' would be much more pleasing." She stared at him with hard dark eyes suggestively, asking without saying.

"And if I don't wish to do this? It seems to me you have nothing to force me into such a corner, you know," Edmund pointed out, trying to silence whatever was calling to be free within him.

"I have a Telmarine ambassador locked away in the lightless dungeons deep within the roots of Deglon Keep; it did not take me long to beat the message from him which you told him to give to Isshiah. I might grow tired of forcing him to remain as a guest and set him loose to inform the King you and your siblings are going to war on him, with Telmarine hostages imprisoned by your cleverly baited trap." Lady Heshlotte tilted her head to the side; it seemed too predatory for Edmund's taste.

"Before he got within a mile of Javona I would have one of my Gryphons fly a letter to the King explaining your treachery and the fact that the words of the Telmarine are now utterly void. You cannot stop what flies in the air; you have no wings," Edmund pointed out with a sarcastic retort, staring right back with equally dead eyes.

"Still... think about it. I know something in you is dying to reemerge. I have heard of your screams in the night when you think on one can hear. There is darkness in you, and I shall find it and bring it back if it is the final thing I do." Heshlotte leaned close and stared into his eyes as if she could sense whatever he repulsed.

"I will think on your request, Milady." Edmund bowed with a slightly mocking manner and turned away from the woman. This matter would require much thought and consideration. He would not take it lightly, even if he was in no immediate threat. Something in him relished having the idea to ponder and dwell on.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, to start off, this is a quick update because tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I don't think I'll be getting on the internet tomorrow because family and friends are coming over, sooo... This is for all ya'll who are such wonderful readers and live across oceans or great distances of land; ya'll are awesome readers and I can't say thank you enough!**

 **Deglon Keep is the castle estate of Baron Ninvialazar somewhere in eastern Telmar. Obviously, Heshlotte is more of a danger than initially thought, huh, Eddie? But I'm sure he'll be fine... yeah, he'll be fine... No, don't ya'll look at me that way, you know I can't give anything away from the plot! You too, Eddie, don't look at me like that! Oh, I'll call you Eddie all I want, _Eddie._ ;)**

 **Obviously there are Telmarine spies in Cair. Wonder who? Guess we'll find that out eventually. Javona is like Cair, only Telmarine and more of a city surrounded with a thick stone wall and port on the seaside than like Cair Paravel is a castle with a well-defended citadel spreading out from it.**

 **Just picture Cair Paravel from the films and then a medieval city with a port. Fairy-tale vs dull reality.**

 **So... I'm gonna shut up and stop killing poor Fiordineve with suspense. Here you are!**

 **A Reader, glad you are happy, hope this happiness is increased with this chapter, :)**

 **Thanks everyone for such wonderful reviews, and thanks Nicola4Sparkle, love hearing from you!**

 **WH**


	14. My Windowless Walls

Hadassa was quite content. It had been three days since her confrontation with the King, and nothing had come of it. He had apparently not bothered to mention it to her guardians and had not bothered her or been near her for the past few days. She was glad he deemed the strange situation they had somehow found themselves in as meaningless. It meant she did not have to think about rebuffing him or what the sensation meant that she had felt when he'd stood so near her that evening.

But she knew that she would be forced to face him again sometime; this was his country, his home, and he was her host. She could not avoid him forever without drawing attention to herself and possibly embarrassing him in front of his other guests and royal siblings. She worried about when next they would meet, but she couldn't understand why.

Once, when she had been thinking of miscellaneous things, it had crossed her mind that she wanted to be in a situation like that with the King again. The thought had been so unbidden and abrupt that she instantly banished it, and found herself looking around in case she had chanced to foolishly murmur something aloud. But nothing had happened, and so she went on about her stay at Cair, talking with Queen Lucy and going on horseback rides with the youngest Queen and at times, Queen Susan.

But good sunshiny days do not last forever, there are bound to be days of rain. Three days since that night, she found herself on such a grey morning. She paused beside a window and gazed out on the grey, bleak landscape. Rain pelted the ground and a gusting wind whipped the trees in the garden below. Though it was hardly past midday, it was already quite dark and foreboding outside. She sighed and went on her way.

Walking down several flights of steps – she was alone today as Coronilla was feeling ill and Efrain was staying with her in their chambers – and paused at an open door. Looking in, she noticed a fire was roaring in the hearth. It was smart, she reflected, remembering Queen Lucy discuss the abrupt changes in spring weather at this time of year. It was surprisingly cold outside.

Entering the room, she looked around curiously. It was quite a unique room, she marveled. Her fingers drifted over a smooth, dark-wood tabletop as she moved closer to the warmth of the fire. She had brought only summer gowns, because Coronilla and Efrain had not thought it should get so chilly in Narnia at this time of year, so she had no warm wool skirts or chemises to offer much in the way of warmth.

After standing close to the flames for a moment, she moved closer to the desk in the corner and the bookshelves on that side of the room. She began reading spines with interest, wondering how one could acquire so many books. In a few moments, however, she came to several leather-clad papers, tied with a rawhide string. She reached for one that was not tied and opened the leather folder cover to reveal the loose papers inside.

She reached a finger out to trace the bold yet elegant scrip scrawled neatly across the cream parchment. This writer was skillful, she thought, reading a few lines. She wondered who kept these things, since no one here could have written such wise words. She started, memories of her argument with the King coming back to her. But _he_ could… she closed the dossier and placed it where she'd found it.

"I did not think you willful _and_ an intruder of places you should not be in."

She started at the words, and cried out as she whirled sharply.

King Edmund.

Her eyes widened. She should have realized a room such as this belonged to him; who else would sit and write in a place like this? The room fit him perfectly, she thought, looking at him standing midst it, the fire to his left and the now closed door to his right.

"I am sorry, I truly did not know, my Lord; th– the door was open, and I was cold– the fire looked warm…" she trailed off hopelessly, knowing he would care little for any explanation she might try to offer him.

"Then sit before the fire and do not poke into things you do not own," the man answered, nodding toward the fire before moving to the desk, and her.

Hadassa was surprised. He would not say some cutting remark and then chase her from the room? She moved to pass him, but glanced his way and noticed something in his eyes. He was troubled, she realized, seeing the unguarded emotions reflected there. When he was thinking deeply or abruptly surprised she guessed that he must let all his guards and walls down. Without giving thought to the last time they had been in a room together, she reached out to him, her hand resting on his arm, following the natural instincts to offer comfort when seeing sadness or uncertainty.

"I am sorry I disturbed you when you were thinking over something; I should not have entered the room merely because I was cold; then gone exploring it without waiting for its owner," she said softly, trying to be friendly and kind; trying to put off all his actions towards her these past two weeks.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund felt as if his senses heightened when she touched him. He was once again acutely aware of how small she was, how enticing. His thoughts were distracted by her presence; he couldn't think on Heshlotte's request without a great deal of force. He looked over to where Hadassa was standing; only to realize he had not looked down far enough; she was nearly a foot shorter than he. A small part of his mind made him increasingly aware of how he liked her in his study with him.

Glancing at her, meeting her eyes, he could tell that though she was fighting it, she felt similar emotions. _'Damn etiquette and politics; I will kiss her if I never do another thing!'_ he decided, moving only inches closer to her.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa didn't know how he could tell her emotions, but he could. And all he had to do was look at her before her breathing heightened and she longed to come closer. She wasn't certain how it happened, she stopped thinking of detail, but he had pulled her to him, moved her arms so her hands rested on his shoulders, and lightly traced a finger down her cheek.

" _Hadassa_ … _Hadassa_ …" She leaned closer as he whispered her name, as he somehow managed to make his touch tingle sharply down her back. She wanted him to kiss her, though a tiny part of her sense railed that he was not capable of love like what she wanted.

 **~|:O:|~**

He didn't know what drove him to pull her to him, hold her close like this and murmur her name. But when he did, he loved the way she responded; how he could feel her pulse increase when his hand encircled her wrist; how she leaned into him, her lips parting slightly. Throwing all good sense from his mind which warned him that to do this was to walk a path he could never return from, he bent his head and let his mouth meet hers.

The sensation struck him as exceedingly pleasant, and he deepened the kiss, cupping her cheek in his hand, enjoying her fingers in his hair and the feel of her in his arms. They parted a few inches, and he whispered her name breathlessly, keeping her close. He did not know why he felt so inclined to her, but he would not waste the moment with her in this room.

 **~|:O:|~**

She had never been kissed before like this, but now that he had kissed her, she felt as if no other man could compare. She rested her head on his chest, feeling uncommonly safe in his arms. She liked this feeling of protection his presence gave her. She sighed; he rested his cheek against her hair, whispering something into the dark tresses. It was only after she realized she wanted to be kissed again that she remembered who she was with and how wrong this was.

She looked up at him. He looked back, an unreadable expression in his brown eyes that only made her want to think of anything but the impropriety of what they had just done. She pulled back, though his arms still remained around her, and looked up at him. But he misread the look of worry in her eyes and released her, taking a step back, regarding her.

"Apparently hard to please," he remarked dryly. "But then, I am Narnian. Perhaps I'm not as… refined as your men." Her eyes widened as he seemingly degraded himself, yet also managed to mock her.

"I did not say that; I am troubled by what position this puts me in, as well as you, King Edmund," she answered quickly, not going to let him verbally slap her again.

"Whoever said there was a position of ruin? It was quite possibly a mistake; one that I shall endeavor to avoid in the future," he retorted, moving until he was beside her, looking down to his right where she stood.

She stared up at him, wondering why she had allowed herself to fall into this situation with _him_ of all people. She swallowed, her mind unbidden thinking of the kiss. He moved away towards a bookshelf beside the hearth. She stood there, watching dazedly as he pulled a book from the shelf and began paging slowly through it.

"If you have nothing more to say, the door is over there." He cocked his head, staring off into a dark corner of the room, motioning with his free hand to the closed door.

She wanted to scream at him. How she would give anything to strike him across the face for his coldness! But, as her anger grew, her sense returned, reminding her that this was the Just King, the man she had long ago determined and known incapable of affection, love, or compassion. She should not have been hurt or startled by this rude brush-off as if she was no more than a scullery maid.

Composing herself and smoothing her skirts, she moved towards the door without giving the man standing beside the hearth another glance. He could stay in his dark study and read for eternity, for all she cared! She jerked the door open and walked quickly out into the hall. But, to show just how frustrated she was and perhaps annoy him, she slammed the door with all her strength. Her satin slippers hardly made a sound against the stone floor, but the slam echoed, which pleased her.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund started when the door shut with a reverberating bang, and quickly closed his book, looking the way she had gone. Sighing, he tossed the book onto a couch near the fireside, raking his fingers through his dark hair. He could not understand why he felt so inclined to kiss and embrace her, but then to discard and scorn her. He surveyed the room and noticed that above the door, where there were also bookshelves, several manuscripts and scrolls had fallen to the floor because of Hadassa's emphatic exit. Striding across the room, he reached to pick them up.

The first thing he touched was something he had written. He frowned, opening it. Words sprang out at him. The Witch; detailed, awful nightmares; and all the fears he had had as a young boy just crowned king of a country he was not certain he could rule. He flung the thing from him, horror filling his eyes. Around him parchment papers drifted to the ground, now loose since he had thrown the leather folder. The papers settled and draped over the back of the couch, quietly resting on the floor inches from the blazing hearth.

He stared, before leaning back against the door weakly and slipping to the stone floor. He let the memories come as he sat there, feeling once more like a little boy who was somehow in a grand place of honor he did not deserve.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Peter walked up to his brother's closed study door. Edmund had been absent from the morning meal and the council meeting with Lucy and Susan. Peter was worried because Edmund had not informed them he planned on missing them. He raised his hand, but did not pause to knock and instead pressed down the latch and pushed the door inward.

The room was rather dark, and the light spilling in behind him cast his shadow eerily upon the floor. He looked up, searching the dark room. Embers gleamed in the hearth, reminding Peter of campfires at midnight when he went on campaign through the Northlands. He stepped into the room, and paper crunched under his boot-clad foot. Looking down, he realized the floor, tables, and other items in the room were strewn with similar papers.

The door slowly drifted closed behind him when he took his fingers off the latch and stooped to retrieve the parchment. He struggled to read the words written across it in Edmund's thirteen year old scrawl. It was bold, like the writing that Peter had come to be familiar with, but it seemed penned by an unsteady hand, and not as gracefully sprawled across the page as his brother's later writing.

 _I don't know why I still breathe. I should be dead. And she knows it. She will never be gone; always she's there, in the shadows, icy cold. I hear her at night, when I try to sleep. I hear her call to me, and wish she might go, but she does not. I cannot tell Peter, he would not understand, he is perfect; well, far more untarnished than I._ _He_ _at least did not betray his family for something to eat._

 _I'm such an idiot. I don't know why I am called "Just;" I have done nothing deserving of such a great title. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. Oh, Aslan, I need you! Only you understand this fear and confusion…_

Peter's hand fell to his side as shock coursed through him. The page was forgotten as he turned over the lines written across it again and again in his mind. A slight noise disturbed the stillness of the room. Peter cast his gaze about. As he took into account he was not alone, a voice addressed him from the shadows.

"Brother." It was pained and soft, and Peter instantly felt the instinct to protect Edmund from whatever threatened him; it hurt worse to know he could not. A hand reached out in front of the embers; reached toward him. It was little often that Edmund ever requested Peter stay with him when he felt like this; he would not reject it. He walked forward, grasping his brother's cool hand in his warm ones.

"Edmund, I'm here, I will never leave you; you are my brother, and I could not be the king I am without you." He knelt beside the couch, watching Edmund's eyes shine in the dim light from the dying fire.

"I am grateful you have need of me, the Traitor." A forlorn smile crossed Edmund's face; Peter could barely make it out in the darkness.

"I shall always need you with me, _always_ ," Peter whispered earnestly into the silence of the room.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Let me just start this off by saying Edmund is not feeling sorry for himself or anything! More like he's confused and worried and scared. I mean, he's been (to paraphrase Sherlock) "reliably told he doesn't have a heart" by quite a few people over time.**

 **He's wondering what in the heck to do about his feelings for Hadassa that cannot be love but more attraction. He's wondering what he's going to do as his wisdom is telling him this is utterly wrong and he's going to hurt Hadassa as well as himself if he keeps this up.**

 **Peter comes in and reads the paper, changing the flow of the chapter from Edmund's thoughts of Hadassa, Peter worrying over Edmund's self-worth and the fact he [Ed] might consider himself a mistake.**

 **So, thanks to A Reader for her beautiful review! Sorry for the way everyone treats Edmund, but things might get better for him! We'll just have to see, :)**

 **gangui is a wonderful reviewer, and I'm so glad you like my story! Makes me excited and glad!**

 **And to Fiordineve, I love your reviews; they make me smile and go excitedly start another chapter!**

 **Question: Son, Grandson or Descendant?**

 **Well, R &R,**

 **WH**


	15. Hide My Broken Soul

Hadassa found her way into a large parlor, much like the one she and Coronilla had been taken to when they'd first arrived. With a troubled sigh she sank into a smooth armchair. Clasping her hands, she looked around the room absently, her mind more on what had just occurred in Edmund's study than the decoration of the room. What would she do now if she saw him again? She blushed as she admitted – albeitedly to herself – she wanted to be kissed by Edmund again. Though he had been unpleasant, that had not.

She traced a circle on the arm of the chair, lost in thought.

"Are you all right? You seem to be thinking quite deeply over something."

The voice startled Hadassa from her thoughts and she turned her head quickly to look at the speaker who had entered the room. Queen Lucy smiled cheerfully, her silver circlet seeming very bright against her golden-brown hair, and offsetting the silver trim on her lovely sky-blue dress.

"I can remove myself from the room if you wish to be alone," Lucy began hesitantly, though the smile and kind blue eyes did not waver.

"No, I'm fine," Hadassa answered, shaking her head slightly. The Queen took another step into the room, and Hadassa was a bit surprised to note she was wearing boots; strong, sturdy boots like a man's, except that they had been made for her. The brown color matched the bodice the Queen wore, and Hadassa began to wonder if she had been out with her sister practicing with some sort of weapon.

"Well then, what are you thinking of? Do you miss your homeland? I know that, when I was a girl and just beginning to visit other lands, I oft missed my home," the Queen admitted, smiling guiltily.

"I… I am confused," she allowed, wondering if she could ask the Valiant Queen about her brother and his strange turn of mood.

"What vexes you?" Lucy smiled kindly once again, sitting in a chair close by and reaching to place her hand over the other young woman's.

"I am ashamed to say, and forgive me if this is rude or forward, but your brother, the Just King… he confounds me with his change in attitude. He frightens me." Hadassa looked up, worried what the Queen might answer. Would she be angry or offended?

Lucy did not answer, but neither did she remove her hand from Hadassa's. After a moment, she met the other lady's eyes. "My brother is not like other men. He has suffered a cruel fate, though it is wholly his fault, and now must bear the scars and burden of it. Sometimes I look at him and I want to cry aloud, for I do not know the man I stare at. I wonder how much is left of the brother I once knew so well… Only Aslan keeps him with us; only Aslan banishes the demons that hunt him." Lucy looked off across the room with unseeing eyes as she spoke, a change in her voice.

As Hadassa watched her, she seemed to shake off the bleak outlook. Smiling a strange half-smile, she looked at the girl rather embarrassedly. "Forgive me; I should not have spoken so to a stranger. I was just lost in memories of years past, when Edmund was more my brother and less this mysterious king." Slowly the Queen rose from her seat, her fingers drifting off Hadassa's hand and coming to brush against her blue skirt. "Keeping your distance from my brother may be best; he is confusing, I agree; especially to those who know him little." With that, the woman left the room.

So his own sister claimed him confounding. His own sister feared she did not know him. Hadassa shivered, knowing it was not the cool draft in the room, but the thought that she was becoming too involved with a man that was more of an image than a human being that made her chilled.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

Peter had summoned a Faun to rebuild the fire in Edmund's study while he picked up the papers scattered about. Edmund had remarked distractedly, as if his mind was far from the room, that he needn't do that and may as well "leave them lie" because he could attend to them later. Peter had ignored the obviously muddled order and finished picking up the papers before the Faun returned with more firewood and kindling. Peter came back to Edmund's side once he'd finished setting the papers on his brother's desk.

Edmund glanced at him, as if he wanted to say something, but at that moment the Faun returned loaded down with a sizeable amount of wood. Peter, though the Faun tried to say he could manage, helped put the wood into the hearth and relight the fire. He stood, hand resting on the smooth stone mantle, staring into the crackling flames after the Faun left, when Edmund suddenly spoke.

"Do you remember our world?"

Peter turned, startled. "What are you talking about, Ed? You mean the strange dreams we have?" He frowned slightly, watching his brother, watching the agonized light enter his eyes.

"No, I just thought you might remember too, that's all… I forget sometimes, and when I do I read what I wrote so that I would never forget. But it's becoming confusing in my mind now…" he trailed off, laying his head against the couch, the firelight reflecting in his eyes as he stared at it dully.

"What are you talking about?" Peter tried again, moving closer to his brother.

" _Our_ _World_ , Pete, or have you forgotten as all the others have?" His voice sounded cold, bitter, regretful… alone.

"You mean that land we dream of; the one with filthy places, a ghastly roaring of cumbersome equipment, and the horrid battle ongoing; that one?" Peter watched his brother closely.

" _Yes_ … Yes that is what I talk of… I used to remember the land easily, now all I remember is the word… the meaningless word 'England.'" Edmund sighed, turning his head slightly to look up at Peter, who by now stood over him.

"It is a place that I do not wish to return to," Peter decided at last, thinking hard on the subject.

"Hmm…" Edmund sighed softly, tiredly looking into the fire once again.

It was quiet for some time. "Peter, I thank you for staying with me, but would you go now?" He glanced at his brother, who had been staring at the floor under his feet, pondering Edmund's questions and forlorn words.

Peter was surprised. "You want me to leave you alone, like this?" He wasn't so sure that was the proper thing to do; shouldn't he try to convince Edmund to go to his chambers?

"I want to be alone; you have done much, and I am grateful, but there are things I must ponder that you cannot help me solve; it is my lot as Just King to mull over difficult problems," Edmund declared, trying to seem cheerful but only giving Peter a half-smile that seemed a rather weak attempt. He needed to be alone to think about this new complication involving Vézian's daughter.

"I cannot forget what happened the last time I left you in such a state, Edmund." Peter looked at his brother, eyes holding pain at the memory.

"I am not so blinded by this thing that holds me that I would try to bring about my death again, brother. I was young; I was foolish; I am not that stupid any longer." Edmund waved the remark off, and, it seemed, tried to wave Peter off in the same motion.

"Very well," Peter declared at long last, slowly moving toward the door. He glanced back once more, when his fingertips found the latch. "Do not stay here for the rest of the day; though it looks bleak this morning, you should not stay in the dark like this." He did not wait for Edmund to answer him, and closed the door softly as he let himself out of the study.

"I am more of the dark and the shadow than you shall know, my beloved brother," Edmund whispered slowly to the empty room. He had never been good at saying his emotions or sentiment until the person they were meant for had departed him. He didn't know why his words were held back like this, but at times he was glad of it. The only time he mourned it was when Peter sounded as he had. If Peter suffered, he felt the pain also.

"Someday I shall tell you everything; someday when perhaps you might understand…" He drifted from speech into thought, wondering what to do about this newest quandary he had. He did not think he felt anything for the daughter of the man he despised, but he was worried this… attraction, this desire, might lead to something he would surely regret. This girl could damage Narnia by telling her guardians his unfortunate mistake of allowing his personal desires to rule his mind.

"Narnia cannot have a weakness because I choose an inopportune moment to have _feelings_! I cannot endanger my beloved people, my family, my friends, all because some part of me has decided I lack companionship!" he snarled harshly, railing at himself. "Let alone companionship with the very girl whose father would have laughed as I died!" He rose from his seat, only to remember that he was alone, and not on trial.

"What I want and what must be are two very different things. What I chose when I entered this world forced me to walk a path alone; I have no room for this woman to walk beside," he whispered to himself. He sunk back into the couch, taking his head in his hands, thinking over his choices, what he had done just hours before with the Telmarine girl. "I must go and speak with Emrys about Lady Heshlotte and her request." He suddenly remembered, straightening.

Now was not the time to be foolish, not with this dangerous woman nearby. Feelings were for those who wished to have weaknesses. In this game of wits and politics, he could not have such things, not yet.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, quite an interesting chapter, if I do say. Some more Edmund-with-Peter moments, and some Lucy-with-Hadassa time. I felt that Susan would try to get too much information from Hadassa, whereas Lucy would sink a bit into memories and not think to ask deep questions about Hadassa's quandary with Edmund.**

 **So, welcome to Jesus girl 4ever! Good to hear from you after all this time! :) Glad you like this story; it's rather a new path, isn't it?**

 **A Reader: I'm glad you think the emotions were strong, but also good in this chapter! That you think them believable is also fantastic too! That's what I really hope for, that everything seems sensible and realistic. I can't stand unrealistic stuff.**

 **Well... Not a lot to say here... Please R &R as always, my wonderful readers! **

**WH**


	16. It Begs of Something More

The ball was quite large and grand tonight. Many nobles from Archenland and Galma had arrived, and Hadassa had been amazed at how many more people roamed the halls. She had been told by Queen Lucy, who was kind enough to seek her out each morning, that all these people would come and go, and that the Archenlandeans only came down for this one ball. Unbeknownst to Hadassa, this was the anniversary of the Four's crowning, and the Archenlanders made certain to attend as Narnia's closest allies.

She slipped into a curtained alcove to rest for a moment. She felt she had danced with quite a few knights, lords and other miscellaneous Archish nobles tonight. All of them tall, with lilting accents and auburn to brown-red and blonde hair that tumbled down their shoulders or curled around their ears when cropped short. They were draped with beautiful capes and sashes that bore unique patterns for their houses, and it fascinated the girl while at the same time confounded her. 'Mountain people,' Coronilla and Efrain had declared with indifference, as if they were above the Archenlandeans.

She exhaled, resting her hand over her stomach. How she wished now for a loose dress without the constriction of this corset! It was difficult to dance the fast waltzes and reels the Narnians and Archenlanders wished to pull her into. Closing her eyes with relief, she leaned back against the cool wall, grateful for the cover offered by the tapestry draped over the alcove's opening.

In a moment, she straightened and moved to go, but as she went to make her way out, someone ducked in, blocking her exit. She stumbled into the person in the small space, looking up and narrowing her eyes to try to see well in the shadowy dimness. Dark locks brushed against her forehead as the man stooped slightly in the rather low-roofed space.

"My apologies; I am not used to coming upon these occupied."

Her voice died in her throat when the man spoke. She knew who this was. And from the way he tensed, and his breathing quickened slightly after he spoke, she could tell he knew her too.

"What are you doing here?" The way the words were voiced in the dimness made her feel as if she was being interrogated for merely stepping away from the tiresome dancing and loud buzz of many people talking at once.

So she spoke what she felt. "I was tired, Sire, and not wishing to retire just yet but to relax for a moment, ducked into this alcove; for that is what these places are for, are they not? To rest and relax until you feel you can go on again."

"I suppose they are," the voice agreed. The dark was beginning to vex her; how she wished for some small light to see his face by so she might guess his level of animosity toward her in this moment. "But others use them too, for things they wish go unnoticed."

She felt her cheeks warm at that, knowing full well what some used these places for. Though she blushed at the vague remark, she felt something roused by it as well, making her want to lean a little closer to the king standing in front of her somewhere in the dark. Hesitantly reaching out her fingers; they brushed against the smooth thickness of a velvet cape. She froze, pulling back her hand slightly. If she could tell when he shifted by the movement of air in the alcove against her skirts, then he could most certainly feel her fingers against his clothes. But she'd had no idea he was standing so close.

"I'm not more than a foot in front of you, Milady." The sound of his voice. . . She blushed deeper in the dark, ashamed for the feelings that stirred when he spoke. This was not right; she should not be thinking of acting this way with him.

 **~|:O:|~**

Wine helped, to a degree. He would not forget when he'd been younger and Peter had placed glass after glass into his hand to get him drunk enough to admit some of his most private thoughts regarding his title; he would never be so stupid again as to get that loose with his drinking. At least it made the world a little brighter – and blurrier, he had to admit – around the edges. Edmund poured more of the dark liquid from the decanter into his glass, leaning slightly against the table.

Emrys stared at him with unblinking crystal blue eyes as he swallowed slowly and looked about the room when he paused. "You are becoming drunk," she purred observantly.

"And you are here to protect my dignity because my mind is too clouded to think straight," he retorted, smiling at her funnily, reminding her of when he had been younger.

"What if Lady Heshlotte asks you to dance with her? You cannot refuse, and in this state you might say something Narnia would regret," the White Tigress commented, analyzing him with some skepticism.

Edmund downed the remaining wine which half-filled the glass, and leaned down to her a bit. "That's why. . ." He frowned for a moment, watching the dancers spin, or perhaps it was the room? "I have _you_ with me." His eyes glinted with heady amusement. Emrys growled low in her throat. "What are you going to do?" he asked nonchalantly, setting his glass down and staring at her intently.

"Nothing, _Sire_. The only thing I answer is this: find yourself a glass of water or I shall find the High King and your royal sister." Emrys' mouth curved in an animalistic smile.

"When you say _that. . ._ " Edmund frowned in annoyance, but looked back to the table for a glass as requested he do. He whirled to look back at the Tigress. "How many?" he questioned her.

"You had four," she answered pointedly. She was grateful he'd only drunk four glasses of the wine, instead of more. Usually it was more before it was less.

Emrys watched him, wondering how much drinking truly helped Men forget their problems. She supposed it helped a bit, because the King always seemed much too free with his words after a bottle of wine. She could never understand drinking so that you could not see clearly or hear reliably. It was impossible to protect or guard when one was drunk, and she had never been able to stomach the idea. Watching her King, however, she did not feel loathing, but pity.

A deep, deep pity welled within her as she followed his actions with her eyes. He was haunted and in pain, she could see it. Not the pain from a physical wound, but from scars of the past; memories and emotions that he had buried or suppressed. She knew what it was like to hide yourself for fear that someone might see this part of you as weakness, but she also knew that it was consuming her beloved King.

He turned, and a smile slowly crept across his features as he watched the dancing men, women, and Narnians. He looked as if he thought himself in a dream, Emrys noticed with sympathy. As if at any moment he expected to wake and plunge into shadow. She stayed by him as he slowly skirted the edges of the room. An excited Satyr bumped into him, and with his unsteady balance, he stumbled into a blonde young Archenlander.

"Why, King Edmund!" The young man grinned brightly, reaching a hand out to steady the older man. A young woman with waves of long dark hair that fell several feet past her shoulders, tiny intricate braids throughout the locks, turned to look at him also, dark chocolate eyes glinting brightly. She smiled, nodding in a more Calormene fashion. In his slightly befuddled state, Edmund just looked at the boy with a puzzled, distant expression.

"Do you not remember me? Prince Cor, the boy formerly known as Shasta? The one who nearly got himself killed fighting Calormene at Anvard with Prince Corin before we knew we were related? I know it's been three years, but I couldn't have changed so greatly!" He laughed, glancing toward the young woman. "This is Lady Aravis, don't you recall?"

"Oh, certainly; quite," Edmund answered, nodding slightly. He allowed a smile to slip onto his face. He remembered Cor and Corin; how could he forget? My but they made him feel old! he thought, sizing the Archenlander up, noticing how he'd grown from a boy into a young man; an heir to be proud of. "Is your father come with you? I must talk with Lune in person again one of these days," Edmund declared.

"No, unfortunately, father is not here. Apparently the hunting is quite good, so he and Corin did not come. Archenland could not be without a head at this ball, so I came; along with Aravis here; because if I didn't bring her she'd wake Pyre with her angry yelling," Cor remarked, grinning over at the young woman, who elbowed him.

"I don't yell, Cor, I complain gracefully, there is a distinct difference," Aravis retorted, fluttering her long lashes.

"Most certainly," He smiled indulgently, "Not." He winked, sliding a finger under her chin and closing her open mouth.

"I shall repay you for such a degrading retort, heir to the throne or not!" she countered, stamping her satin-clad foot against the floor.

Edmund watched them argue like a married couple, wondering when they'd _get_ married so they might stop their endless flirting-arguments. They were ridiculous, and even he could tell they were becoming far more than friends. He regarded Prince Cor silently as the young man argued merrily with Lady Aravis, and decided he would make a good king someday.

"I hope you might teach me something of twin swordplay, King Edmund; while I'm here, that is," Cor finally addressed Edmund and not Aravis. His blonde hair brushed against the silver brooch pinned to his one-shoulder cape.

Edmund focused on meeting the Archenlander's eyes to clear his head for a decent reply. "Perhaps; I must look into my daily schedule to ensure that I lay aside some time for such teaching. You are becoming a skilled swordsman, I hear," he added, trying to be gracious as he couldn't think clearly at the moment. Better to be gracious than rude.

"I don't know about skilled, Sire, but I am doing well, my teachers say," Cor answered slightly bashfully.

"He is superb! But he does not like to accept praise for such fine work; he has come a long way from the boy who nearly killed himself fighting at Anvard that day," Aravis defended, slipping her arm through the Prince's. They looked at one another and smiled slightly.

"I believe I interrupted a conversation you had been having, and that aside, I am taking repose from this gala for a brief moment to catch my breath; if you would excuse me." Edmund nodded slightly and moved away from them, Emrys leaning against his leg as added support against further stumbling's.

"I am glad you let nothing slip or embarrassed yourself during that entire conversation!" Emrys declared with a low growl as they exited through the large double doors of the ballroom.

"Yes, yes," Edmund dismissed her worrying, brushing off her words with a distracted wave of his hand.

"Now, find the alcove and rest for a moment, Sire; I shall be nearby if you have need of me," Emrys declared, moving off a ways to remain inconspicuous.

Edmund turned his head to watch her go before moving along the tapestry covered marble wall on his left. He had grown up in these halls, and knew thankfully where every alcove was in case he needed to escape life for a short time. Waiting a moment to ensure that no one was watching him, he ducked under the curtain and stepped into the small space.

He smelled the perfume she used seconds before she nearly walked into him. He felt his hair brush hers in the dark space, his heightened yet dulled senses aware of her increase in breath, and that she must be looking for his face blindly in the dark as he looked for hers. But, in case he was wrong, and before he acted foolishly, he must hear her voice, to ensure that it was indeed her.

"My apologies; I am not used to coming upon these occupied." He waited, reaching out to the wall he knew was somewhere in the dark and bracing his hand against it so he might lean slightly.

He smiled in the blackness when he heard her breath catch. The wine was not fooling him, making him recall things that had never been. Hadassa indeed smelled of wisteria and honeysuckle.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice slightly sharp. He hadn't meant for it to be, but in the darkness, and in the state he was in, his words and tone didn't matter a great deal.

"I was tired, Sire, and not wishing to retire just yet but to relax for a moment, ducked into this alcove; for that is what these places are for, are they not? To rest and relax until you feel you can go on again."

He raised an eyebrow at that, though she could not see it. He was always surprised at the capability to defend herself she had. He admired it, though he would never tell her. "I suppose they are," he admitted finally. "But others use them too, for things they wish go unnoticed." He meant for spies and informants, recalling when a servant had overheard a Calormene dignitary talking with one of his men a few years back. That had been a short-lived plot to overthrow their rule and invade Narnia. But even as he spoke, he realized lovers used such places too.

It was quiet, too quiet. He wondered what she was doing, and debated speaking again. But before he could utter a syllable, he felt her fingers against his cape, which still swung slightly from his entrance into the alcove. He moved centimeters closer, a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth.

"I'm not more than a foot in front of you, Milady." Finally words returned to him. Reaching out, he, with only mild surprise, caught her fingers in his hand as she moved to bring her arm back to her side. Slowly, suddenly grateful for the darkness, he interlaced their fingers before tugging her a bit closer. He said nothing, just pulled her closer until he could slip an arm about her waist.

"The Count and Countess will be looking for me." She pulled back, though her fingers remained in his. He scowled; annoyed that she would talk of others while they were alone.

"Go back to your dancing and useless prattle then, but for the future, do try to stay out of my presence," he requested, finally releasing her hand, though he would rather keep her close.

"I did not stumble in here, you did! I believe it should be I who asks such things from you!" she retorted quickly.

"Keep your voice down; do you want the whole castle to know we're here?" he demanded, straightening and unconsciously resting his hand on his hilt.

"Then stop chasing after me, acting one moment as if you wish only to embrace and kiss me, but the very next as if you despise and loathe me! I am so confused; I simply wish you would bother me no more." She pulled away from him, ducking back out into the hall before he could react.

He scowled in the dark, wondering what was wrong with him, and why he found the Telmarine girl so alluring.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So... yeah, Cor and Aravis! :) I couldn't help myself, I had to put them in here somewhere! And yes, I base Archenlanders on Scots. I don't know why, but I think it has something to do with the way C.S. Lewis wrote them. I can just easily see them as being men and women with a distinctly Scottish accent and manner about them.**

 **After all, they are highlanders, what with living up in those Archen mountains and all. Why not? For the sake of this story, (and also in my personal canon) I place Cor and Corin as being about twelve or thirteen during Horse and His Boy. Since C.S. Lewis really didn't tell us his age, I think it would be about there.**

 **For this fanfic he was thirteen, making him sixteen now. I say Aravis is three months younger than Cor, so she's fifteen.**

 **Hmm... I have wanted to do drunk Edmund for some time... I have an old bit of scribbling that I'd written down last year with an Edmund and Peter scene about five years into their reign where Peter makes Edmund drunk because he wants to understand why his brother is the way he is, and Edmund is only truly free with his words when he can't think straight.** **(That's the thing Edmund's referring to, by the way.)**

 **Incidentally** **he's a bit kinder to Hadassa in this state, though it did not last long! Hmm... are/would any of you readers be adverse to mild sensuality? I mean, certainly you expected something from reading the summary.**

 **As I've said in my profile, I don't do bedroom scenes. But I cut it very close doing just before and after. I was merely wondering...**

 **So, welcome HermioneGranger, I'm very glad you are enjoying this story and I hope you enjoy more to come!**

 **A Reader: here's more for your insatiable interest! :) I hope you enjoy,**

 **WH**


	17. In the Shadow of Night

Hadassa sighed as Maria helped her step out of her dress so that she was in her chemise and corset. She fingered the ties on the front of her white bodice absently. Maria began guiding her mistress to the stool before the dressing table, but Hadassa raised her hand to still the maid. "Maria… Thank you for your assistance, but I am quite certain I can finish. I… wish to be alone…" she trailed off, staring out toward the balcony, lost in thought.

"Of course, M'lady," the young woman replied quickly, nodding her head. She picked up the petticoats and the dress, placed them into the wardrobe and then quietly left the room. She for one would respect Hadassa's requests. She was a woman, and at times women needed to be alone.

Slowly, without giving it much thought, Hadassa moved to the balcony, which had been curtained off for the night. She reached out to pull the drapes back, but each time hesitated and let her arm return to her side. She thought about that evening, nearly four hours ago now – it was well past the midnight hour – and wondered why she had felt as she had. She had wanted nothing more than to let him hold her and kiss her, but she had also wanted to challenge him. She'd wanted him to pull her back when she'd moved away, but he hadn't, and it frustrated her for a reason she didn't understand.

Hadassa pondered why she had such mixed feelings, and jumped with a small gasp when the drapes in front of her whipped back into the room with a gust of ocean-wind pushing against them from the other side. Collecting her fears, she slipped out onto the balcony between them. The wind pushed against her white skirts; whipped a few strands of her dark hair loose from the style Maria had twisted it up in twelve hours before. She was surprised at how good the wind felt against her skin.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of saltwater and spring. Her bare feet made no sound as she walked to the balustrade and braced her hands against it as she leaned out slightly. The stone was too thick and too high for her to possibly climb or lean out over and lose her balance; not that she would ever think about such things. She wasn't certain how she moved to the wall and fell asleep, but when she woke with her back against the wall and her legs curled, her skirts under her and her head resting against the balustrade to her right, she knew she should get to her bed.

She jumped when a loud cry echoed out to her on the wind. She stood quickly and peered around. Surely it had been some animal; perhaps gulls; she'd known them to cry in a human-like manner. She walked to the far left of her balcony and peered around the balustrade to see where the nearest balcony was, just to be certain. Heavy black drapes snapped in the wind perhaps twenty yards away. She blinked dark lashes several times, startled. But it made sense, she argued to herself. Though his chambers were several corridors and passageways away, they would be on the outer wall as hers were because of the balconies.

Suddenly a thought came to her. It was dark and she certainly would get no more sleep this night; with no one watching, surely she might explore the castle? No one would bother her, especially not the Just King; not at this hour of the night. Perhaps she might finally find the Great Library, since it seemed to elude her. Hadassa was suddenly grateful she had told Maria when they'd entered her chambers that she would not attend the meal the following morning, since the ball had run so late.

Picking up an iron key on a table near her door, she quietly opened it and locked it behind her, slipping the thin object into a hidden pocket of her chemise. She tugged absently on the bodice's ties laced up her front, but soon ignored the clothing as she moved down the corridors. This was an adventure to her liking! She smiled softly as she turned down another passage. She dearly wished to find the Library.

 **~|:O:|~**

He woke with a cry, breathing heavily. _"Why can't you control these outbursts, Edmund?"_ He scolded himself harshly, falling back on the pillows with a pained sigh. He cursed his fears, his memories, and himself, before finally sinking into exhaustion. But no matter how he tried, he could not find sleep; it evaded him artfully. He longed for it, and was nearing the point of begging for peace and darkness. An hour trickled slowly by before he flung the bedclothes wildly off himself and rose from the bed.

He started toward the balcony, but suddenly felt no desire to stare at the ocean or hear the crashing echo of waves; they would remind him too much of battle tonight, and he did not want to think of such things. He moved his arm in an agitated manner, the loose fabric of his shirtsleeves billowing and then collapsing in turns. He closed his eyes, passing a hand over his face.

"Her eyes are blue, the color caspian…" he frowned as he finished. What made him think of Hadassa? He shook his head, yet still he could see her eyes in his memory. 'Blue' the Telmarines called it. 'Caspian' the Narnians said. It was a color; they had told him once when he'd heard them use the word during a discussion about festival color-schemes. A beautiful color blue, not just the standard blue of Telmarine dyes and the color of the sky. But a beautiful, unearthly color… When he'd been shown the color he had loved it.

He had become fascinated with it even more when he learned it stood for the law and justice; so many meanings in a single color. It had quickly become the color of the field on his personal flags, with a black gryphon's silver claws that curled around a broadsword and a spear. As if to taunt him her eyes were such a memorable blue. He looked up, tired of dwelling on such things.

"Perhaps a visit to my study would do me some good; I've been meaning to finish that spell for Greysong. She said it might help her with her project. Blasted Centauress is always going on about one project or another…" he whispered under his breath, pulling on his boots and moving toward his door. He closed it softly, but when he moved away from it tripped, and braced his hand against the wall, creating a slight disturbance and quite a bit of scuffling against the stone. He cursed under his breath and his eyes darkened, though it was unnoticeable in the dark.

He looked up when he heard someone inhale sharply from surprise in the corridor.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa tiredly walked down the halls back to her chambers. She had searched for a good half-hour and came up with nothing. Every door had either been locked or led nowhere. Perhaps the rumors she'd heard in court had been true: the Great Library was enchanted so that none but Narnians might find it. It was only logical, she supposed, that such a vast store of knowledge should be protected and hidden away.

As she walked past a darkened corridor, she though she heard a rustle. She froze, scared. Who could it be? Someone who might do her harm? She knew it was foolish to fear the Narnians, but something told her it was not wrong to fear Lady Heshlotte. The woman oozed something ill. Hadassa looked around, eyes resting on possible hiding places in the corridor. There were several tapestries which might hide an alcove or secret passageway. Unconsciously she curled her toes into the thick burgundy carpet beneath her feet as she debated what to do.

"Hadassa?" She whirled at the questioning voice, a strange feeling of relief washing over her. For a moment she felt as though she wanted to run toward it. Instead, she masked her relief and waited.

"Why are you out so late, Milady? Especially alone as you are." The King slipped quietly from the shadows that he seemed to belong to so well. Though he wore boots he made no sound; not even his breathing seemed to echo, as hers did, in the passage.

"I could not sleep –" she began, looking away. This was an extremely improper situation. She was not dressed appropriately, and he had caught her wandering around his castle in the middle of the night. What must he think? How could she explain to her guardians when he told them? What would Efrain say?

"Nor can I. . . But you once told me that you knew why I am troubled in the night, so I need not explain," he whispered with slight sarcasm.

"I spoke out of turn that night! I-I was angry and felt insulted and. . . I wanted to incur pain by my words as you had done to me." She bowed her head, fingers once again playing with the long ties on her bodice.

"A noble task, to be certain. Few try to fight back against my words; it was a refreshing change of pace, though it frustrated me a great deal." He nodded, and the tone in his voice made her glance at him in time to see a small smile cross his face before it vanished. He tilted his head to the side, studying her, and some of his dark hair fell across his forehead.

She looked up, suddenly remembering what he had said about hating it when she acted timid. "I. . . Please forgive me for wandering alone and at night; I meant no harm. I only wanted to see the Great Library. I have heard it has more books than any place in the world," she admitted, looking wistful when she thought about the possibility of so many books to read. Not that Efrain would ever allow her to pick one up. . .

"You are full of noble tasks, are you not? First you want to make me suffer my own cruelty and next you wish to find the Library." A smile once again slipped onto his face. Hesitantly, Hadassa allowed herself to smile back.

"I cannot take you to the Library tonight, forgive me." He bowed his dark head slightly, truly sounding apologetic. She was startled; this was almost a different person; was this the Just King when he was not bitter and withdrawn? She took a few steps closer, wanting to know this side of the King in this short time, before the dawn brought the return of the cold, cunning man she was familiar with.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund could not understand why he felt this need to please her, but he wanted to. But as they stood there, he became increasingly aware of the situation and the place they were in. Unbidden, the thought came to him that she was beautiful. Startled, he straightened, but did not move away. He wished she wouldn't pull her hair back from her face like that, though! It was annoying, and frustrating.

He returned his attention to her and noticed she had come closer. She was naught but two feet away from him. His pulse quickened; his mind thinking of several things he found guiltily pleasing. Clarity had been cast far from his mind. "Hadassa, come here." As quickly as he had spoken the words, he regretted them. She did not have to obey him; she was not his subject.

 **~|:O:|~**

She'd been taught to obey that tone of voice all her life. No matter who spoke, she had been taught to respond accordingly to the orders given by it. She stood inches away, and looked up at him, meeting his eyes bravely, though she was slightly nervous too. It was difficult to meet another person's gaze so intently; especially when she felt this way about the person. She wasn't certain where the boldness came from, but she reached up and brushed the dark strands off his forehead.

As she lowered her hand, he caught it in his. It was not a quick, sudden movement, but slow, as if he had thought about it before doing it. He kissed her palm, her fingertips; so softly she very nearly thought she had dreamed it. She could feel his breath light against her hand, and looked back into his dark brown eyes, wondering just how great his pain must be that it showed through them now.

He reached up carefully with his other hand and held a strand of her hair between his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully. "Why. . ." His voice was so quiet, so soft. He paused; she wondered if he would continue, the break between his words was so long. "Why do women of Telmar pull back their hair or bind it up under shawls and veils?" His eyes met hers, and she could not interpret the emotion in them.

She felt herself shrug hesitantly, but was not fully aware of doing the motion. "I do not know, my lord. It is improper to allow it to fall loosely about our shoulders; I have never understood." She couldn't meet the intensity of his gaze any longer, she looked down and away.

He leaned in, his head coming close to hers. He reached up with his right hand as he whispered into her ear. "I do not abide inexplicable traditions; they are as wind. Full of voice but empty of reason." He pulled a pin from her hair, then another, and then the last, and she felt it come loose, a heavy coil that fell onto her shoulders before straightening to come even with her waist.

He pulled back, looking her up and down. "I prefer your hair this way; it is far prettier." A pleased light came into his eyes, and she wished anything that it would stay. He did not seem so forbidding this way.

"Only for you." She was startled by her own words – wondering where they had come from – along with her actions that followed them. Curling a strand of his dark hair around her finger, resting her other hand on his arm– who was she fooling herself into believing she was?

 **~|:O:|~**

Why did he take pleasure in this? What was his illness that he enjoyed very nearly seducing this Telmarine woman– daughter of the man he had despised and then killed, and ward of the Telmarine king's own brother? He must surely be mad. Peter would say it of him in fewer words. But if he was not sane, then he would take what enjoyments from this he could. He had stilled at her words, enticing and inviting as they had been. He wove his fingers through her thick hair, thinking her far more beautiful with it down than she had even been with it pulled back.

He gently tilted her head slightly, and kissed her. The sensation like fire filled him, and he brushed his fingers against her neck, pulled her closer until she was entirely in his arms, and deepened the kiss. Her hands clutched at the loose fabric of his shirt as he trailed light kisses down her neck. He moved so that they were parted mere centimeters. "If you do not stop me now. . . I will never stop," he whispered, barely able to raise his voice for lack of breath.

Her eyes met his; he stared back into the fathomless blue of them, so dark in the night. "The day is for etiquette and propriety, but the night belongs to those that must survive its horrors. Who am I to reprimand the King of Shadow and Dark?" She sounded breathless, and he found his desire running away with his sense.

In answer he pulled her close and kissed her passionately. The dawn would throw things into different light; it would show them their transgression and his insanity as it truly was, but for now it was calm, and only they existed.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So... what do ya'll think?**

 **Look up 'the color caspian' it's a beautiful blue. I don't know what the name meaning is, but I've heard it's "blue-green" and I've heard it's also a bunch of other meanings. I went with blue. Not going to say much, but that word's important in the sequel...**

 **I'm going to say for the moment that the word caspian is the Narnian word for blue and justice and strength. I wasn't entirely set with this chapter... I feel that I didn't do as good a writing job on it, but it's growing on me.**

 **I don't think this moves it too fast, because there's stuff still to be discussed and gone into, but ya'll might think so. We're approaching twenty chapters, and the plot has not spread as much as I'd wanted it to. W're still hardly finished with this...**

 **Hopefully ya'll can be patient with me until this starts picking up! You've done a fantastic job so far, especially Fiordineve, her reviews are amazing!**

 **Thanks to all my readers/reviewers and all of ya'll who simply read! You're wonderful and I cannot say thanks enough for checking this story out.**

 **HermioneGranger: I'm glad you like the build-up and the characters! I hope you liked this chapter too,**

 **WH**


	18. Forbidden & Too Quickly Forgotten

Without quite knowing how he managed it, he found her leaning back against his bedchamber door, her hands in his hair and his kiss on her mouth. A sigh passed over her lips, and she looked up at him. He slipped his arm securely around her waist and lowered the latch on the door. It swung inward easily, and he had no trouble bringing her into the room after him. However, locking a door when one's hands were slightly . . . occupied . . . was not a simple feat. He was rather grateful he'd left the key in the lock. A sharp twist of his wrist, and the task was finished.

Moonlight shone into his room from the balcony; the drapes had been parted by the wind earlier, and so let in a considerable amount of light. But he was ignorant of this as he kissed her; kissed her more longingly, more desperately. She sighed in his arms, her hand sliding up his chest, fingers inside his collar, brushing against his skin.

Her fingertips moved feather-light against a scar at the base of his throat and he flinched unconsciously in habit.

She pulled back, looked up at him with concern in her blue eyes. "What is that?" She pulled back the fabric of his shirt concealing his scars to look closer, and touched hesitant fingers to the dark lines, pity for something she knew nothing about lighting in her eyes.

"I have many scars, they are things a soldier is no stranger to," he whispered simply, unable to look into her eyes. How could he tell her now that they were the result of her father? He did not want to dwell on the bitter and dark time, so he simplified it; she need never know.

 **~|:O:|~**

She wondered why he seemed to be. . . evading was certainly not the right word, but he _was_ avoiding a direct answer to her question. She looked back at the scars. They seemed darker and more ominous in the moonlight. She remembered what Efrain had told her once: the darker and more uneven a scar, the more agonizingly it had been administered. She absently traced down one with her finger while Edmund closed his eyes, breathing slowly. These had been done so that he would not forget who had inflicted them.

She understood his character better now. Who would not be somber and grave after so brutal a torture? She shuddered, knowing she surely could not withstand long such pain. "I am sorry that you suffered," she whispered, wishing to convey her sympathy better than such silly words as those. His eyes opened quickly and he stared back at her.

"It is done with– a thing of the past. Do not give me such words, I care for them not." She shivered happily as he trailed cool fingers down the back of her neck, tugging gently at the ends of her hair. She nodded, and slipped her arms around his neck, her way of requesting a kiss. Kiss her he did, so desperately that she moaned as it ended.

" _Edmund_." She didn't know why she uttered his name, and almost held her breath as she did. He did not pull away or rebuke her, as she expected; instead the depth of his kiss increased, and his arm pulled her to him once more.  
She breathed in sharply when she felt his hand at her waist through the material of her chemise. Placing her hand atop his, it took her only a moment to realize he had somehow managed to unlace that horrid corset. She sighed in relief to be free of the constraint, but shivered as his fingers drifted slowly up her side, tingling against her skin under the fabric with a pleasant sensation.

She took a small step back, wanting something behind her for support, but would have fallen against the bed had he not held her up by keeping his arm about her waist. " _Mhmm_ , _Edmund_ , _Edmund_. . ." She whispered his name, leaned up as he kissed her slowly in answer. The sensation was so pleasurable she curled her toes into the carpet. If only the morning would never come.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

He wasn't certain what woke him; perhaps it was the distant crash of the waves, or the first rays of morning light filtering through the drapes on the balcony. But he woke slowly, feeling as if he'd slept well. It was strange. . . he'd not risen this way in years. He shifted, moving his arm. A feminine sigh came softly, and dark hair trailing over pale arms and shoulders came into his line of sight. He became more aware after that. The startling realization that he had not dreamed the night came to him, and he frowned, wondering what to do.

"Hmm," she sighed in her sleep, slowly rubbing her cheek against the sheets as she moved a bit.

He looked at Hadassa but was not truly seeing her. Peter would kill him.

"Not if Efrain does first," he muttered aloud to himself, watching her sleep.

He wanted to touch her, but he refrained. Edmund leaned back, staring up at the canopy, his mind going over all possible outcomes. War, probable– Isshiah held some strange fatherly affection for the girl– marriage? Little likely– she was too far below his station. Swords drawn until Efrain departed and then a stern lecture from Peter as if he were seventeen again would certainly happen.

After turning such grim possibilities over in his mind, he knew he needed to get up. Sitting, he reached forward and grabbed a robe off the end of the bed and shrugged it on. He ruffled his hair, combing it back from his face as he stood and walked toward another room. The world suddenly felt too overwhelming and complicated.

 **~|:O:|~**

She sat up when the sharp crackle of drapes in wind came to her ears. She opened her eyes sleepily; they widened quickly when she realized where she was. This could not be reality. She had merely dreamed the night– hadn't she? Absently Hadassa pulled the bedclothes around her bare shoulders. Her mind ran wildly with fear. Efrain would not stand for this. He would throw her from his house for what she had done, but not before he sent word to King Isshiah and roused Telmar to war against Narnia.

She dropped her head into her hands, trembling slightly. "Whatever shall become of me?" she whispered, lifting her head slightly, trying her utmost to blink back tears. Her dark hair fell around her, quite long when it was not bound back. After a few moments with her eyes closed, Hadassa looked around to room. She stared at the swords against one wall, and the dark furniture against another. Raising her eyes to the canopy above, she realized the constellations of the night sky had been embroidered into the midnight blue fabric.

She pulled the sheets closer around herself before standing. She stopped when she reached her chemise on the floor. Dressing herself was not difficult, but she searched and could not find her hair pins, so had to content herself with the brunette waves tumbling around her face and down her back. Nervously she put the bedclothes back on the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, hands in her lap, uncertain of what she should do.

"You're awake and dressed." She jumped at the voice, turning to face it. Edmund – she knew she could not hope to be familiar with him except in her mind – stood just inside the room, a doorway framing him. He wore a loose white shirt which he had not bothered to lace at the collar, so it fell open, leaving the scars easily visible. She stared at them, following an especially long one until the shirt covered it.

"If you are quick, I can return you to your rooms," he added, striding forward, throwing back the dark balcony drapes before coming to stand in front of her. He pulled hairpins from his pocket and handed them to her.

"Thank you, I was worried I had lost them, last night. . ." she looked away embarrassedly.

"Milady, look at me." She quickly met his gaze.

"Last night we were not ourselves, I believe we can agree to this at least," he paused and she nodded, feeling that there was no other way to explain what they'd done. "So I shall not recall the matter if you do not either." He regarded her carefully, as if expecting her to argue against such an idea.

"Yes, I. . . I shall forget it; I cannot be thrown out of my guardian's home, it would ruin my father's name and tarnish my Lord Efrain's reputation." She bowed her head.

"On one condition. . ." She looked up at him quickly, wondering if she was in the greater position of requesting conditions or if he was.

"Yes?" She waited, heart beating quicker.

"Do not expect me to show any kindness or new courtesy to you. I will go on as I always have, and you shall do likewise." His brown eyes stared at her relentlessly, and she felt something ache inside her at his words. She only nodded, standing when he moved away and motioned for her to follow after him.

He walked to a tapestry on the wall and pulled it back, revealing a door in a slight recess. A key was in the lock, and he reached out, twisted it, and then pressed down the latch, allowing the door to open into a dark passageway. "Follow me, Milady; I can assure you no one shall see us if we return you to your rooms this way." He motioned and she walked ahead of him.

The hall was dark, and Hadassa wondered how they would enter her chambers. She could recall no hidden door in her rooms– she had searched. After a few turns, the King stopped outside a door. He pulled a key from his trouser pocket and inserted it into the lock easily. She watched him, wondering how he obtained the keys to guests' chambers. He pulled the door open into the hall and she could see dresses. The door was the back panel of her wardrobe. She regarded him with shock.

"You could gain entrance to my chambers whenever you pleased!" He turned to look at her. Before she could react, he pulled her close.

Leaning until his mouth was close to her ear, he whispered "Not that it matters, but I would not think to lower myself to those mean levels. Such things are for boys and imbeciles of questionable character." His voice was not the brusque tone it had been in his rooms. It sounded as it had the night before, and she felt herself attracted against her will.

"Good morning, Lady Hadassa, I hope you slept well." He pulled back from her and she had to steady herself from the sudden withdrawal. He nodded, placed the key in her hands with the casual detail that it was not the only one in his possession, and turned back down the dark corridors to slip into the shadows. She fingered the small object in her palm, feeling confused and dazed. She glanced the way the King had gone before stepping up into the wardrobe and her chambers.

What might this night change?

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well forgive me long absence! (Well, it seems lengthy to me, anyhow; though if I'm correct it was only perhaps a few days.) I know this chapter was long in coming, but it now seems from where I stand that the next shall be even longer in getting put before your eyes** – **I hope you can withstand the gap, my dear readers. (This manner of speech is what comes of reading Sir Doyle's fabulous works of mystery fiction, I'm afraid.)**

 **I do love a good mystery, and I do love a good romance (the two combined are smashing in my opinion)! This story happens to be both, as mystery/romance/suspense it seems, unfortunately – rather, I think of it as fortunately – to be my best forte. But I blunder on about meaningless matters and superfluous problems in my life.**

 **So... What do you think? Sir Vezian was rather a cruel man, don't you agree? Like those barbarians (forgive me that I quite forget the name) whom are nothing but scoundrels and blackguards to their enemy (or the men they _believe_ are their enemy) but then turn the leaf and show nothing except kindness and affection for family and close comrades which rally round the hearth on cold nights. **

**Confusing men to ponder and even more so to write. I try to offer sympathy for our beloved Dark King, but in the end find myself judging him as I judge Vezian. No man, however wronged, should seek revenge on the battleground where his sworn enemy can barely discern fellow man-at-arms or fiercely fighting enemy. Yet. . . Vezian is by far the crueler of the two.**

 **Where Edmund mentions Peter " _lecturing him as if he were seventeen again_ " I'm afraid he is off by two years. He was not lectured when he was seventeen, as that was the year Vezian had him under lock and key. The last misdemeanor he conducted in his youth was preformed at the rather rambunctious age of fifteen, a later one at sixteen and not very much his fault.**

 **Yes, I could not but touch upon the fact that there is a secret passage in the wardrobe of Hadassa's chambers. In the film Prince Caspian there is a similar passage, and the reason it is there shall be because of Hadassa's experience with such corridors and entryways. At least, in my plot and canon for this trilogy. Yes, this book has now become three; quite an odd happening, but I shan't have time to discuss it here; I have several things I must write about and them leave off!**

* * *

 **A Reader: I view it as ocean-blue too! I just needed some way to give ya'll visual in case you had trouble seeing the word as anything but a blonde or brunette with blue or brown eyes trying to regain his rightful throne. lol**

 **I'm glad you thought them intense; the word I was looking for! Here is more, I hope it's pleasing to you! :) Your reviews are wonderful to read and I love them!**

* * *

 **R &R ya'll, and have a great time reading the rest of the week, **

**WH**


	19. Is Not So Easily Done

Edmund stared out the window, twirling a quill in his hand absently. Peter had summoned him to his large and rather open study; Edmund preferred the darkness and security of his windowless room to this office of his brother's. He never felt entirely safe in the large room, which he knew was simply his paranoia. However, he fought down the fear and sat with his back to a balcony and a window at his side. What the deuce could his brother want now?

He frowned as his mind wandered– which it tended to do when he was bored. He hadn't seen Hadassa since that morning, and he wondered if she would hold to her promise and carry on as if the past night had never been; his sisters surely could, but most women were not like the two Queens; they couldn't go an hour without confiding to another woman.

He looked up from where he sat – elbows resting on the edge of Peter's desk, quill twirling mindlessly in his long fingers – when the blonde figure of the High King entered the room from a door that opened off of his private chambers. As Peter made his way into the room and around the desk, Edmund returned his gaze to the quill and declared dryly:

"The High King summons me to his study, yet he is not there when I arrive and so I am forced to dwindle hours away awaiting him. Not very wise, Peter, but– we all know I plan the wars and you carry them out. What have I done or what needs to be done that you send for me?" He smiled emotionlessly, raising his eyebrows as the quill's nib left a stain of ink on his fingertip.

"Stop fiddling with that and concentrate, Edmund." Peter leaned forward and plucked the feather from his brother's hand, restoring it to its place on his desk. "I was held up by our guests, since you never participate with them I must act for you," Peter added ingenuously.

"Mhmm, get to the point, Peter, I haven't the time to play twenty questions; we're not children anymore." Edmund looked up at him sharply.

"I never played twenty questions with you, Edmund; it only felt like twenty questions because I had to ask you things constantly as you would otherwise not talk about them– ever." Peter cast a casual glance from his brother to the balcony behind him. A blonde eyebrow rose with slight acknowledgement. "That must take bravery," he remarked in an offhanded way, reaching for papers on his desk and shifting several into a dossier to his right.

Edmund looked at him, confusion moving across his features. Now Peter was making no sense at all. If he found out his brother had called him here simply because he wanted to talk about Edmund's problems and sleepless nights, he would have none of it!

"I meant the balcony, and the window." Peter dipped a quill nib in ink and quickly scrawled his signature across a parchment.

"It was rather painful, you cannot blame me. No one is ever the same after being abducted and beaten for information that never existed. Now, what do you want? You've put me in a foul mood with your verbal running's about, just spit it out; I can tell when something I've done vexes you, Peter," Edmund declared with a slight shrug, as if it were a small matter.

"Yes, I'm not pleased with your attitude these past few days. You were the one who claimed that nothing should even come close in the way of destroying this chance Narnia has of making peace with Telmar, yet you go around and ignore our guests and mutter rude comments behind their backs! You treat them as inferior or as if they are nothing but inhumane monsters all of them." Peter's blue eyes met Edmund's brown ones, a tone of annoyance and frustration seeping into his voice.

"How do you know they aren't? How can any of us know they are not merely cruel men built on doing nothing but learning Narnia's weaknesses and destroying her with them?" Edmund retorted sharply, leaning forward.

"This is not about Telmar, brother; this is about your character!" Peter's voice rose.

"So you wish to make me out as the villain? Telmar is not so innocent, you cannot deny it!" Edmund fought back.

"In this situation it is you who are in the wrong, Edmund. These are our guests; you are the one who brought this whole situation upon us, and it is _you_ to whom Narnia looks to lead us out of it! I do not want to argue, Edmund, but I cannot abide your resentment of these people any longer. I understand how you suffer, but you must lay it aside for this moment." Peter tried to relax; his emotions were high and he felt guilty for not keeping them in better check.

"How can you truly understand how _I_ suffer? You were never there! You were never asked relentlessly every night and every day, again and again, what you knew, to admit what you knew, to _tell_ _them_ what you knew! You were not the one who was held down and forced to watch your blood spill freely without your will!" Edmund shouted fiercely, pain clouding his eyes. He jerked to his feet quickly.

"Surely you still remember how I looked that night when I return to Cair? You were there; or did you forget as you've forgotten so easily about other things?" He roughly brushed up the sleeve of his shirt, the scars visible for merely an instant on his forearm. Peter stared, swallowing and inhaling in almost one motion. By the Mane, of course he still remembered! How could he forget?

"You... you were so ghastly pale, I thought I was seeing a ghost. I jerked to my feet, thinking I missed you so terribly that I had finally lost my senses completely and would have to be locked away. When... when Lucy cried your name and I realized that you were not an apparition for my eyes alone, I wanted nothing better than to weep." Peter stared blankly as Edmund slowly turned to look at him.

"I ran to you, but you were so ill... you did not even know who I was. You cried out and stumbled back from me, and I was stunned. I watched you; I finally _looked_ at you, and saw all the blood… I had never been so repulsed before… never so outraged at spilt blood. It was soaked into your shirt, leaving rust colored lines zigzagging across the fabric. I had never been so ready to kill for another as I was that night." Peter looked up at his brother, finally meeting his eyes.

"I… forgive me for allowing my emotions to run away with my sense; I understand that these guests are of importance, but I cannot promise a complete change around them. I shall aspire to be civil for Narnia, but Telmar holds no place in my heart, Peter. For Narnia and the love of kin and hearth I can rally darkened hearts to stand united, but I cannot promise the same for Telmar; don't ask if of me, please."

"Very well, since you begged so eloquently," Peter answered, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he bent his head back to the papers and letters lying out upon his desk. Edmund stiffened, the words calling to mind similar ones uttered long ago in sarcasm many leagues from the protection of Cair.

"I do not beg– eloquent or otherwise," he declared somewhat firmly. The tone of his voice caused Peter to look up at his sibling, a questioning frown stealing across his face. The High King tried to determined what his brother meant from his body language, but all Edmund did was clench and unclench his right hand close to his side in the folds of his cloak; almost as if he didn't want his brother to see him doing it.

"Fine, just try to keep out of complex situations involving our guests, that is all I ask; you may go now to attend to whatever was far more pressing that annoyed you to delay because I was myself delayed," Peter answered curtly, having become engrossed in the tedious business of his daily tasks as High King of Narnia and Emperor of the Lone Islands.

Edmund nodded in habit before turning from the room. Mordred leapt up from the shadows of a corridor and followed close at heel. He said nothing, nor did he lift up his eyes to examine his master's face. "We go to court, Mordred. It appears my brother wishes my moods to improve." He frowned as he dwelt on his brother's closing words to their conversation. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders a hair's breadth. "Well, it's too late for that, then." The Wolf cocked his ears at the words, but his king did not elaborate and Mordred did not care to inquire.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Sorry, this is rather a short chapter! But I wanted a moment with Peter where he and Edmund are a bit at odds. I also felt that it was time Peter told Edmund he should try to manage his attitude and keep it in check slightly.** **This also covers a bit about Edmund's abduction and then imprisonment in Telmar.** **Eventually we'll get into that more, but until then I'll leave bits and pieces hanging around to give you a taste of the story to come. Which shall obviously not be pretty. No Hadassa in this chapter, unfortunately.**

 **I think that if Edmund's had attempts on his life and he's been abducted more than once - does the Witch keeping him prisoner count too? - that he would be slightly paranoid about sitting with his back to an open doorway.**

 **I also suffer from a similar paranoia, but I've never been kidnapped, it's just something I get from many years working with animals; I cannot stand to have my back [or places I can't easily and quickly protect] exposed because that's my blind spot. Everything has a blind spot, pretty much. But I mostly refer to horses, of which I used to work with.**

 **You just get this uneasy feeling and keep close watch on people coming near you or people entering the room you're in. You learn to hear keenly, let me tell you! lol. I'm actually not kidding. I have pretty sensitive hearing from my little paranoia.**

 **This chapter might be a bit odd, but that's because I just finished watching Sherlock. Perhaps it's only me, but I feel like the dialogue between the brothers is slightly BBC-Sherlock- &-Mycroft of them. Edmund's a bit too calculating and sharp, and Peter's a bit too cold and inconsiderate, but as I said, that could just be me.**

 **By the way, when Edmund says "...or did you forget as you've forgotten so easily about other things?" he's referring to the fact that Peter's forgetting about England. That is something that bothered me; Edmund forgetting about England. I think that he would've remembered it better than the others. Hence his words "a dream of a dream" in the book.**

 **This means he had dreamed of England, or in other words, he dreamed of this moment [finding the lamppost and what they would do after] long before it happened. So returning to the lamppost was as if he was living the dream of a dream [entering Narnia seemed like a dream, it changed all of them for the better; he's unknowingly using the "it [enter noun here] like a dream" phrase so common in the 40s, 50s, and etc].**

 **He remembered England best; how they came from it, how they must surely go back. He's the blasted Just King, how could he ever truly forget, you know?**

 **"A dream of a dream" basically means if you think about it "a memory of paradise". His earliest Narnian memory was entering Narnia itself. And you cannot dream what you have never done and/or never seen.**

 **Whew! Loooooong A/N, sorry ya'll! :)**

 **Anywhoo, hope everyone had a great weekend and that your week is just as good! If not better,**

 **WH**


	20. What You Cannot Have

Edmund gazed thoughtfully across his study into a corner. He had spent several long hours in the court and had solved a score problems and absolved menial matters among some Black Dwarves of the Cysgol Mountains south of Narnia but north of Archenland. With his mind unfettered by any truly deep questions, it drifted to Hadassa, and what he had done the night before. He started when Emrys came in. She glanced at him, sensing that she had interrupted his thought, but said nothing.

Instead, she walked silently over to the thick rug before the darkened hearth and sprawled about it elegantly, as only a feline could. As she relaxed, licking a padded paw and her foreleg out of habit, Edmund turned his gaze to her and mindlessly stared. Lucy had jested when they were younger that, as long as he had a point of focus, he could be still and silent for hours, thinking much faster and linearly than any of them. It had been all said in fun then, but it was not far off from truth.

Finally, he could stand it no longer. Blast the Cat that she knew how to make him talk! "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low and devoid of a single emotion.

"Why do you sit in the dark thinking of times' past?" Emrys shot back easily enough. He scowled. She never retorted to him unless she knew some secret of his. What had she found out this time?

"Fine, yes, I sent the bushels of roses and the unsigned note declaring 'I felt badly for him and hoped he had better luck somewhere else' to Duke Gresham when Susan turned down his suit." He shifted in his chair, putting his feet up on his desk with a dull thud.

"Interesting, but I didn't care for that; however, now that I know this, I'll think of good use for that information. No, I was wondering why I smell that woman on you. Why, my friend– my lord?" She added the formality as an afterthought, looking up at him with her large turquoise-colored eyes. Edmund regarded her carefully. "You do not know," she realized after a long silence.

"No," he agreed, his voice nothing but a whisper. He had no possible answers and it was driving him mad. No reasonable explanation.

"You cannot have a mistress – let alone a Telmarine one, which is far worse – while Heshlotte lurks ever on the fringes of our lives, threatening to bring about your demise. If the prisoner she detains does not come through for her leverage, she will find something, and this girl is just what she needs," Emrys remarked.

"The girl is nothing– certainly no mistress, Emrys. You should not be concerned. And I have been thinking on what Heshlotte requested –"

"Demanded," broke in the Tigress. Edmund cast a dark look in her direction.

"I have thought on it, and I wonder, is it such a horrible thing to remove the Baron? I shouldn't like to kill him – perhaps spirit him away to some land where he can live comfortably without that ghastly sister of his lording over him in such awful measures." Edmund glanced at his companion casually, though he dearly wished to know her opinion on the matter.

"I believe I could arrange something, but only after the guests are well on their way from Cair and past Narnia's borders. A few of the warenkind in human form under cover of dark cloaks should be an ample band to carry this out. Narnia shall be free of the snake's poisonous fangs and the Baron shall have a proper life for himself. You must talk with him; he admires you for your brilliance in court." Emrys licked at her paw.

"And you know this because he has commented in some subtle manner on this to you?" Edmund cocked an eyebrow, smiling dryly at the Tigress.

"I watched him," she answered, punctuating each of her words as she spoke because she paused between them to lick her coat smooth with her pink tongue.

"I'll find him this evening, if I have the chance or see a possibility to get him alone. If he seems amiable, I might just tell him of his sister's request of me and if he does not mind being abducted to live out the remainder of his life in Terebinthia, Galma, or on the Lone Islands." Edmund leaned back in his chair, relaxing.

"And that girl… she is not like other women of the past, my friend. Be wary." Emrys rose with her parting words, leaving Edmund alone to ponder them.

 **~|\0/\\\0/|~**

"Milady, it is rather late; would you please unlock the door so I may enter?" Maria's words were slightly muffled because of the wooden barrier between her lady's room and the corridor she stood in. For the fifth time that morning, she tried the latch, only to sigh with vexation because it was unyielding. She tucked a few stray strands behind her ear absently, realizing she would have to go pin them up later to keep them out of her way.

"Milady, please answer me!" She leaned her head against the door, pressing her ear to it, trying to detect any noise within the room. She heard bed sheets rustle, and whispers of footsteps against the floor, but Hadassa did not lift her voice to reassure her lady-in-waiting that she was all right.

"I am certain that my lord Efrain can ask one of their Majesties about obtaining someone with master keys to open this door for me!" She tried to keep her voice light though she was becoming concerned. Maria jumped back a step when the door opened quickly, the key clicking softly in the latch. Hadassa looked out at her, a tired, dull light in her eyes, as if she were troubled or had not slept well.

"Maria, I do not want to go downstairs for the morning meal, I feel too tired. Please inform their Majesties and do tell them I beg forgiveness, but I… I did not sleep well." A troubled expression clearly fell over her face, but Maria also noticed a confused – scared? – look underneath.

"May I ask why?" Maria leaned forward slightly; reaching out her hand comfortingly between them; she and the other girl had always been close despite their varying positions in social ranking. Hadassa stepped back, preventing them from touching.

"No, no you may not. I just… was pondering a few things. How is the Countess?" she abruptly changed the subject, meeting Maria's eyes with a question in her own.

"She has said she wishes to stay in her rooms for the remainder of the day, Milady. She feels ill, however. I understand that the ball last night exhausted everyone, but usually you are not so strongly affected by the late hours." Maria looked searchingly at Hadassa, but there was nothing by way of expression on her face that gave any hint as to her predicament.

"I simply have to adjust to Narnia, Maria. Perhaps return before the midday meal? I may be in better spirits then." She smiled at the maid in her familiar fashion, and Maria could not help but smile back.

"Of course, Milady." Maria bobbed a curtsy and turned back down the corridor. She heard the door close behind her and shook her dark head slightly. She felt that something was not quite right, but could not put her finger upon what it was.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa leaned back against the door, exhaling sharply as she slid slowly to the ground. She looked up at the ceiling, feeling lost. After Edmund had left her, she had sat down on her bed, and eventually fallen asleep. A sharp knocking on her door had woken her, and she had hurriedly straightened her chemise and gone to open the door, though for several long minutes she had stood before it, simply wondering whether or not she could confide in Maria. But after hearing the young woman declare she would go find someone who could force her to open the door, she thought better of such things.

And then she was crying and didn't know why. What had she to cry for? She laughed through her tears softly, feeling silly for crying yet also scared about the days ahead.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, this is another boring chapter, please forgive me! If I work on it in good time I'll give you a really good one, but I haven't much time of late! This was mainly for Maria's p.o.v. because the maid will be a large part of the cast in coming chapters.**

 **I hate torturing ya'll with these boring chapters, but they make the book, I'm afraid. It'll get better as we go on; next chapter should have some interesting Hadassa/Edmund in it! :) I might be able to post that chapter tomorrow or the next day, but we'll see!**

 **Thanks everyone for your wonderful, inspiring reviews! They mean the world and without them I would hve stopped writing long ago, certainly.**

 **Have a wonderful day and happy reading,**

 **WH**


	21. You Long For

Laughter rang out over the palace gardens and out of the open windows of the grand ballroom of Cair Paravel. Narnian and Archish couples walked down the garden paths or swept gracefully across the dance floor. The ocean echoed distantly, and the wind brought the fragrant scents of coming spring and salt air through the windows.

Edmund smiled as he watched Lucy dance with a dryad to a lively waltz played by a band of Fauns, Dwarves, and other Narnians. He looked after her with a fond brotherly expression as Susan walked up to his left. He only glanced at her, preferring to keep his train of thought upon Lucy.

"Edmund, I wonder if you might take a moment of your time and answer a few questions I have regarding Count Feren of Windmere. He seems a noble man, but I want your opinion; you are so very good at judging character," Susan requested, looking up at her brother intently.

Edmund cast his gaze across the ballroom, locking it on the man whom Susan was speaking of. "He seeks your hand?" Edmund asked casually.

"Yes, brother." Susan too looked after the man. He was talking amiably with several of their visitors from Telmar.

"I do not like his attitude toward certain situations. I do not trust him; look at how… never mind. There is something not quite genuine about him, sister; I would accept his suit with great caution; if you might excuse me." He dipped his head and moved off, leaving Susan to ponder what she should do now about her suitor.

Was Feren worth accepting? Would a marriage between them benefit Narnia at all? Long ago she had realized she would never be able to give any of these men seeking after her hand love like they might want, but she might make a good political wife. Susan was willing to marry if the marriage would benefit Narnia, but if it wouldn't she would not pursue it.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund walked up to Count Feren and the group which included Frevalla and Coronilla, nodding as he stopped near Lady Hadassa. He had not told his sister, for he realized she might think him enamored to Hadassa if he did– but the Count was looking at the Telmarine girl too often and his glances were too close together for his comfort. Besides, Feren was not shy in procuring mistresses, no matter the country they came from or if he resided in it at the time. Another reason Susan was too good for the likes of him.

But… why should he care whether Feren wanted Hadassa or not? He'd done no better by her, certainly. A nagging thought refused to leave Edmund, but he strove to ignore it. Clearing his mind, he remarked quietly that he wished to dance with Hadassa. If only to remove her from Feren's annoying gaze. She accepted – he knew she wouldn't be allowed to do anything else, he was the Narnian King, after all – and led her into the waltz steps as the musicians began.

"Why are you dancing with me? Surely there are other young women to hold your interests." She glanced up at him and quickly looked away.

"The Count Feren is not a man to be close to," he answered curtly, trying to remain indifferent.

"But he sees me as no one, a simple burden taken in by a wealthy relation of the King – why should he even acknowledge my existence?" she answered calmly.

Edmund glanced down at her, a glimmer of frustration and amusement entering his dark eyes. She was sharp but naïve, he though yet again. Though, he realized that some might look upon it as fortunate that she knew little – if any – of such things as he knew and spoke of in vague terms. "You are not a plain woman, Milady, and there are few I should think that are ignorant of your outward beauty; however, they are not honorable in their means to praise it."

"I do not enjoy listening to what you suggest with your tone, my Lord," she answered. He smiled casually but without remorse for what he had done– if vague and hardly noticeable to others.

 **~|:O:|~**

It had been two days since the night Hadassa tried reluctantly to forget. She was not entirely certain how they managed it, but the Just King did not cross her intimate path and she never had the fortune – should it be for good or ill? – To cross his. The evening of the ball, as she sat before her mirror watching Maria do her hair into a typical Telmarine fashion, she wondered what the festivity might bring. Secretly – she would never admit such things to herself – she hoped to at least watch the Just King, if not talk to him.

Her dress, of a dark navy-blue material with black lace at the throat and around the sleeves, was one of her least favorites, but Coronilla liked the thing, so she was forced to don it for that evening, much to her chagrin. The skirts rustled slightly as she moved her hands in her lap, staring down at them thoughtfully. After some time, Maria wishing to style her mistress's hair just so, she was ready, and left her chambers to join Coronilla and Efrain as they made their way down to the ballroom.

Once there, she had curtsied to several noble men, women, and Narnians, before drifting around the room by Coronilla's side. After Efrain left his wife and charge to discuss some political matter or other with the High King, the Duke Frevalla come up to them and began a conversation with the Countess. At one point, as she stood watching the dancers and barely listening to the conversation, Hadassa noticed a man with dark auburn hair watching them from time to time. He talked a great deal with the Gentle Queen, but when the lady moved off, he slowly made his way towards Frevalla, Coronilla, and Hadassa.

As he came closer, Hadassa took him for a man in his later years, with shocks of grey and white streaking through his reddish-amber hair like the fur coat of a fox that has lived through many winters and survived many hunts. She found herself unconsciously wondering if he was perhaps taller than the Just King, which made her turn away slightly in embarrassment as he came up to them. Recovering, she joined in the conversation– if one might call watching the speaker and nodding where it seemed appropriate listening.

As she listened to the man –she discovered that he was an Archish noble called Count Feren of Windmere – talk of his adventures in the highlands of Archenland, she realized her first assumption of him being a middle-aged man around Efrain's age was entirely incorrect. He was young; perhaps not over thirty-three, but it was the premature streaks of grey in his hair what aged him.

And then, when he told some tale of being struck on the head so hard it was thought to be a mortal blow by his soldiers and fellow knights, she realized that many of the streaks must be from head-wounds that had been deep enough to leave scars. She wondered what sort of man would go about willingly seeking adventures that might kill him – certainly no man she knew would do such a thing! It crossed her mind, however, that she might know another man of similar nature, though he was far quieter about it…

Count Feren talked of a battle with some goblins and hags deep in the highlands; Hadassa listened, actually enjoying the exciting tale and wondering why few men ever told their adventures in mixed company. The Count was certainly not ashamed to speak of these accounts with women listening. She inhaled slightly when she sensed someone at her back. The familiar startled yet thrilled tingle ran down her spine, and she could guess very well who it was, though he was quiet for a long moment, waiting until the Count had finished his story.

He then addressed the group. "Might I steal Lady Hadassa for but a moment to dance this waltz?" he asked coolly. His request was greeted with nods and a slight smile from the Duke. The old man seemed to be enjoying his stay at Cair Paravel. She placed her hand in Edmund's, not nearly so afraid to do so as she had been before, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

They glided around it for a time before she found the courage to speak. "Why are you dancing with me? Surely there are other young women to hold your interests." She glanced up at the King and quickly looked away.

"The Count Feren is not a man to be close to," he answered with short brusqueness in his tone, hardly even glancing down at her.

"But he sees me as no one, a simple burden taken in by a wealthy relation of the King– why should he even acknowledge my existence?" She was confused as to why he was verbally abusing the Count; the man had seemed respectable enough, and she had not said anything of aspiring to be 'close' to the man!

She felt his gaze on her as he spoke, and blushed slightly under it. "You are not a plain woman, Milady, and there are few I should think that are ignorant of your outward beauty; however, they are not honorable in their means to praise it." How like the Dark King to poison a compliment with an insult to her knowledge of the world!

"I do not enjoy listening to what you suggest with your tone, my Lord," she answered readily enough. How dare he? _How. Dare. He!_ She inwardly thought with growing temper. She was not some woman that simply existed for a man's pleasure! Nevertheless she became quiet, not wanting to say something he might reprimand her for.

"Perhaps Milady is tired of the ballroom and might relish a turn about the gardens?" His question interrupted her thoughts and she glanced up, nodding slightly. If they are alone perhaps she might ask him if he feels as much confusion as she over that night not too long passed.

 **~|:O:|~**

He did not think he needed to answer her words, so he didn't, merely looked at her and around the ballroom once she fell to silence. He frowned with annoyance when he noticed Feren walking among the dancers toward them carefully. That man would not talk to Hadassa privately for as long as he could prevent it. He formed the question quickly, but asks it calmly. When she nods, he pauses.

"Have you visited the gardens of Cair yet? I have been told by many visitors that they are gardens to hold in memory, but you must tell me if this is truth or falsehood," he remarked casually, moving off the dance floor toward the open doors at the other side of the large room.

"I have not seen the gardens," she replied, looking toward the doors and the landscape beyond.

"Then you must see them tonight, for there is a full moon," he answered, letting the conversation fall into silence as they walked.

Edmund had always been fond of the gardens; they were beautiful, and reminded him of Aslan in some strange way he could not fathom. When they had come to Cair, Aslan had restored the glory of days' passed to the palace, but the gardens had needed manual tending– no magic would mend them as well as caring hands or Talking Animals might. He had thrown himself into the work, determined to show his worth to the creatures that would in but a few weeks' time call him their king.

But that had been many years ago, and he had not the time to often wander the garden paths he had traversed as a child at play in days gone by. Occasionally he would read in the gardens, reclining on a stone couch draped with silken blankets, leaning against some odd cushion or another that Lucy had learnt to sew proficiently and did not cease to make until her fifteenth year. But those carefree lulls when the world did not need him came less-often. As did his peace and quiet to recover from his darker moods.

They walked past the edge of a pond, and he paused when Hadassa looked with interest at the swans gliding across its glassy surface. After he tired of giving patience to her curiosity, they moved on down another path. He pointed out and told the names of, occasionally – when he felt he wanted to – certain flowers which she seemed to fancy.

"It is lovely out here, thank you for taking me," she declared at one point. "Oh, look at the honeysuckle covering that arbor! Honeysuckle is one of my favorites," she exclaimed happily, leaving his side and going over to the fragrant plant to touch the blossoms and inhale the wonderful scent. He followed slowly, watching her.

"I did not know a simple flower brought you such ecstasy," he remarked offhandedly.

"They seem simple, and everyone discards them because of it, but I love them because they are beautiful, and much more complex than opinions people have formed of them," she answered happily as she leaned in to breath the wonderful aroma, not thinking of speaking her words carefully.

He watched her; aware of a curious sensation coming over him, tingling down into his fingers the longer he regarded her. He moved closer, until he could touch the flowers himself. Their scent reminded him strangely enough of Hadassa, that night… no, he reprimanded himself, he dare not venture down that avenue of thought. But she was within his reach, and the longing was becoming next to unbearable.

He looked back down at the flowers, trying to distract himself from her presence. She moved around him, looking at the flowers climbing inside the arbor and up the opposite side. She remarked upon them being two different varieties, but he couldn't seem to pay close attention to what she'd said. When she slowly began moving away from the arbor to continue down the path, he caught her around the waist and pulled her back under it, unable to stop himself from the action.

He met her gaze for a moment, but she didn't fight him, nor reproach him with words, instead, her fingers clutched slightly at his shirt and her breath caught. She looked back earnestly, her eyes wide. This was the oddest sensation he'd ever felt, and it was too quickly becoming addicting. But he discarded that as he kissed her, pulling her close. Her fingers twined into his hair, and he didn't bother to stop the sigh that escaped him.

His mind registered that she made him feel more alive than he had in years; she made him feel the high he thought could only be reached on the battlefield. It was exhilarating while at the same time frightening. She leaned against him, her left hand trailing cool fingers down his neck and inside his collar. He pulled back slightly, catching his breath. When he opened his eyes he found her looking back, lips parted, breathless.

He would have enjoyed staying there with her much longer, but realized soon their absence would be noticed in the ballroom. With some reluctance he stepped back from her. "I fear we shall be missed of we tarry much longer, Milady," he whispered. Though it was dim under the arbor away from the light of the moon, he did not miss the confused, disappointed look pass through her eyes.

"Of course," she murmured, allowing him to lead her out of the shelter of the trailing honeysuckle vines.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So, here is that long chapter I promised! :) Nearly 3000 words! I'm not entirely set with this chapter, but I really think it's time I get on with the story, so I'm keeping it and posting the two other chapters as well. So... I need to get my thoughts together and remark upon the spots I thought were important or are important to ya'll.**

 **~o0o~**

 _ **~Dealing With A Narnian Queen In All Her Mysterious Glory~**_

 **OK, in the beginning of the chapter, Edmund and Susan talk about Count Feren, and Susan accepting his suit. This is because in the beginning of this story [the preface], I wrote that _"Susan consults him_ [Edmund] _in matters of state and matters of the heart"._ Which I think is very likely. However, she ultimately refused every single suitor no matter what her brother said, obviously. **

**I always thought it was odd when I read the book that she never accepted any marriage proposals in all her reigning years, so I gave a reason for it: she never felt like she could love them the way a person wants to be loved.**

 **I mean, there are other reasons, like Prince Rabadash and that catastrophe for example, but I really think it had something to do with the fact that she just couldn't fully love Narnia or people in that world. Always in the beginning, she was on the defensive, protecting her siblings when she heard the Narnians say something that came even remotely close to anger or annoyance at them.**

 **Her " _We're not heroes!_ " " _So you're blaming us?_ " and " _Which is why we should've left while we still COULD!_ " **

**Are much different from Peter's " _Well, he says he knows the Faun._ " & " _Take us to Him._ "  
**

 **Lucy's " _You're the nicest Faun I've ever met._ "**

 **Even Edmund is not as negative towards/about Narnia as Susan was/is: " _Which is why we have to help them._ " He even jumped in front of the Fox to keep the Witch from turning him to stone. An animal he had never met until that moment. **

**Everyone else basically throws their lot in with the Narnians and is ready to help them defeat the White Witch, crowns received in the end or not. Except Susan. When they decide to stay right before the battle, her only reply is basically " _Well, then I suppose I should get in some practice since we aren't going back home._ "**

 **She never fought against leaving, if you noticed. She was surprised Peter wanted to send them back, but she wasn't going to fight it like her younger siblings. She had to stay in Narnia only because of her siblings' love for the country. She loved her siblings and would do anything for them, which is very clearly stated in the films, so if they wanted to stay, she would stay too. But who said she had to truly love the world she was forced to live in because of her familial love for her siblings?**

 **~o0o~**

 **Back to my A/N:**

 **Hadassa thinks in passing that she knows a man similar to Feren in character because she's thinking of the scars Edmund has on his body. She's naturally assuming that they are the results of battles and fights and so-on. She simply assumes that Edmund is quieter about his victories than Feren, she doesn't realize that there are many other plausible reasons for his scars.**

 **I realize many of you may have forgotten who Duke Frevalla is since he hardly ever enters into this story before now. I had to put him back in because I was forgetting him! I tend to do that in favor of the more-liked OCs.**

 **Duke Frevalla: _An elderly Telmarine noble who comes to Narnia before he is too old to travel, and also because he does not believe that Narnians are as horrible as so many of his countrymen claim and wants to determined the Narnians' characters for himself._ **

**Sorry there's no Lady Heshlotte in this chapter, but she shall return in two or three chapters to bring Telmar into the foreground instead of melting into the scenery. Pay attention to Heshlotte, everyone, because she _never goes away._ She'll always be there in the shadows in later books. **

**I really have no more words to say, except major thanks to Fiordineve for wonderful reviews! Love her!**

 **WH**


	22. Keeping Secrets

The ball had seemed plain after her walk with Edmund, and she had glanced at him often throughout the rest of it, but he gave no sign that it had affected him as it had her. She had been surprised by the kiss, but not enough to pull away from it. Hadassa felt foolish for thinking it, but she reveled in any show of affection the King directed towards her, and she knew it would only make things more complicated.

That night, after she'd returned to her rooms and Maria began dressing her for bed, she'd wondered why she continued to let him do this with her; have her whenever he wanted and allow him to discard her when it put him at a disadvantage to be involved with her. She sighed as she realized he probably regarded her as nothing more than some sort of mistress.

"Milady, what is troubling you?" Maria glanced at her friend and lady in the mirror as she undid her hair and wove it into a braid for the night. Hadassa met her maid's gaze, looking thoughtful, longing to confide in the older girl but afraid of the reaction such confidences might bring forth.

"Nothing, Maria, I'm simply wondering if what I overheard about Count Windmere is true," she replied skillfully.

"Well, perhaps if you tell me what that is I might be able to discover something among the maids and the servants," Maria encouraged, smiling a bit.

"Does he… take mistresses?" She looked down at her hands as she spoke, feeling it was a highly inappropriate question to ask her maid.

"I shall see what I discover, but I should think so, the way I've heard some of the serving women talk of his manner towards them and the lesser noble women," Maria replied easily enough, somewhat surprising Hadassa.

"Some of the women have gone so far as to say he has several illegitimate offspring, both Narnian and Archish, if not more," Maria continued, putting a few pins into Hadassa's hair to keep back some strands in the braid.

Though Hadassa had perhaps asked an unusual question to herself, she had forgotten that maids liked best to gossip about their masters and mistresses whenever they could– among one another or to a willing listener. And because Maria often told gossip to Coronilla when the woman asked, it did not seem strange to her that Hadassa finally wished to know something of the court around her too.

"Thank you, that is all I wished to know," Hadassa answered softly, lost in thought.

 **~|\\\0/\0/|~**

Edmund stared into the fire burning in his study hearth, lost in thought. Absently he twirled a lock of his dark hair around his finger, tugging on it mindlessly as he thought about what he had just been told. He looked back at the man standing near him dressed in dark grey clothes, his steel grey hair shot through with silver-white strands. "And you are certain some of your people have betrayed me?" he asked calmly, though inwardly he was trembling.

"Yes, master," the man answered, his voice surprisingly smooth and elegant. Edmund nodded distractedly. Why had he sent Emrys to scout the Archish borders? He could have sent anyone in her place; smugglers seemed suddenly simple things to rout; Werecreatures were not so easily brought to heel.

"They have been reasoned with in the past, and suddenly they do not acknowledge my rule over them any longer?" Edmund asked.

"They have declared that unless you rule as Jadis once did, and bring about a "real" monarchy, you are nothing but a usurper of the throne from the rightful ruler of Narnia," the man answered, looking down.

"How many are their numbers?" Edmund looked up at the man, his gaze demanding a prompt answer.

"No more than forty, master," the grey-haired man supplied quickly.

"The longer I put this off the stronger they shall grow and the weaker my power shall seem to others of Darkening Wood." Edmund looked grim. Abruptly, he stood, a dark expression coming over his face. "I must remind them of the title they gave me long ago. They did not call me the silver-tongued sorcerer for nothing," he declared sharply, standing. The messenger stepped back, a strange sound coming from him akin to respect and fear.

Though Edmund had been young, he had gained the loyalty of the disloyal Werecreatures with his cleverness and cunning. As time wore on, and he began to take up an interest in magic and other such arts, the race had slowly gravitated towards him, since he had a twisted spirit akin to their own, and close to Jadis's, though Edmund's was tamed and straightened by Aslan's unyielding love, and his knowledge that the Great Lion had redeemed him from death with His own life.

"Vari, take Mordred and return to Darkening Wood. I shall follow after I have told my siblings this disturbing news. But no matter what is decided, I shall come to settle this rebellion they have brought up against Aslan's power and my authority over them which I was given when they swore fealty to me," Edmund directed, motioning for the man to go.

Vari nodded, striding across the room and exiting out the door. Not long after, a snarl and low barks could be heard on the other side of the door as the werewolf talked to Mordred in a familiar language much easier than speech. Edmund smiled absently, before clasping his hands behind his back and pacing the length of his study, a strategy forming in his mind of how to deal swiftly with this trouble rising in the west.

 **~|\\\0/\0/|~**

The following morning, as everyone sat down to the morning meal, the High King announced that his younger siblings – the Just King and the Valiant Queen – had departed rather suddenly for the west because of some disturbance there. They would not return for several days, and the Just King had gone so far as to mention that they might be gone over a week. Hadassa fiddled with the linen napkin in her lap, an overwhelming feeling of sadness washing over her at the thought of how long Edmund would be away.

The High King quickly declared that though the two monarchs were absent it would not bring any activities or galas to an end, and things would go on as usual. Lady Heshlotte seemed angered by this news, Hadassa noted, watching the woman frown sharply, reaching for her glass as she stared absently at the wall past the person seated across from her. Coronilla and Efrain whispered among themselves while Duke Frevalla was the only one cleverer enough to ask what the trouble in the west was.

"It seems that some Were-beasts have been causing a disturbance, but the beasts loyal to my brother are fighting them back, and so the matter is deemed a 'small one' in his words," the blonde king answered merrily enough, though when he sat down and believed no one watching him, he frowned, and a worried look entered his blue eyes. The same concern Hadassa felt, though it was slightly different from concern from a sibling's for a sibling.

"I do believe a horseback ride through the country is long overdue," Queen Susan spoke up cheerily, glancing around at the guests. Many of them leaned forward in interest, enjoying the thought of a horseback ride after so many other festivities and activities. Hadassa forced down her melancholy and knew she must not miss the Just King so terribly.

 **~|\\\o/\o/|~**

"Forgive us, we meant no harm!" the strange, horrible-looking creatures cringed closer to the dirt, away from the man standing over them, his swords drawn. Nearby Edmund could hear the Black Stags assisting Lucy in fighting off a Werecreature that had tried to kill Mordred. Edmund had been distressed to see the large black Wolf limping and blood running over his dark fur from a wound on his flank. But he could not run to his friend now, not when he had these creatures to deal with.

"I spared your life when I should have had you killed, and this is how you show your thanks for my leniency?" he shouted, causing several of the beasts with keen ears to wince and cringe further against the crumbling stone wall of the old castle they had inhabited during their short and chaotic rule of Darkening Wood. An image of several of the loyal Werecreatures that had been brutally slaughtered passed over his mind, and his anger increased.

"Please, forgive us, we beg you!" a female Werecat pleaded, daring to come closer.

"And how many times shall I forgive you? Until I forgive you as you tear out my throat?" he lashed out with his sword, decapitating the beast. He did not think it was possible to feel this much pain. How could they have betrayed him like this? How could they turn away when he had only asked they live in peace? And now he must kill or banish them for what they had done.

"Please, we beg you!" still another repeated. The tone of the creatures' voices were pitiful, and the sound of them cut to Edmund's very soul. But he could not turn a blind eye to the murder and anguish they had inflicted upon many innocent Narnians and members of their own kin.

"I cannot," he answered softly, tightening his fingers around the hilts of his twin swords. The judgment he had come to was grim, and the creatures could see his unspoken verdict reflect in his eyes as unshed tears.

 **~|:O:|~**

"Edmund, where are you? Are you hurt?" Lucy ran down the steps of the ruins, from the upper level. She had healed Mordred, and he came down the stairs slowly behind her. Overhead the trees covered the sky, giving the forest an eerie black-green color, tree trunks even darker against it. She looked around, becoming quiet when she remembered that there could be more attackers on the ground level than there had been in the crumbling fortress.

Sheathing her dagger, and pressing her sword into the folds of her dress so as to conceal it, she walked around a corner, looking for her brother. Lucy stopped when she saw him. He knelt on the ground midst several bodies; one sword plunged into the earth and the other fallen near his side on the ground.

The hand clutching the hilt of the sword standing upright in the ground before him trembled slightly, and as Lucy came closer, she realized her brother was sobbing. His shoulders shook, and tears streamed down his face. Lucy rushed to her brother and knelt in front of him, tilting his head up, smoothing back his mussed dark hair. "Oh, Eddie, I'm sorry," she whispered, tears of compassion in her own eyes.

"Lu, it hurts; it hurts so terribly," he whispered, feeling as if he was no more than ten again, and he had betrayed his siblings for… _nothing_.

"What does? Tell me, Eddie, it's all right to tell me; you don't have to keep it to yourself," Lucy soothed, smiling hesitantly, trying to calm her brother.

"They begged; they begged over and over, Lu. I gave them a second chance; how could they dishonor my leniency? How could they betray me? And then… I-I realized I had d-done the same to you, to Aslan, to Peter a-and Susan, to dear Narnia," his voice broke, and he inhaled raggedly.

"No, Edmund, you didn't. You were not given a second chance only to cast it aside like so much chaff. Brother, you are not at fault for what these creatures did here," Lucy declared firmly, taking the sword lying beside Edmund and cleaning it upon her skirt before the blood dried completely.

"I… I killed them, Lu, as they begged for my mercy, as they begged to be spared just once more," Edmund whispered, staring off blankly into the darkness of the forest.

"If given a second chance, they might have done far graver things than what they have done here to Narnia. You know that there are just some who cannot be told that Aslan is good; you cannot force them to believe what they refuse to see. The greatest prison is your mind, brother; don't let it cage you with guilt for something you could not prevent," Lucy whispered in answer, turning his face so that he had to look into her eyes.

"Thank you, Lu; that is what I needed to hear." He looked at her gratefully.

"Sometimes the Just King can be taught from a book of fairytales instead of one on philosophies," Lucy answered, smiling merrily at her jest. Edmund smiled back, a sound like suppressed laughter escaping him.

"You have made me feel better than I have in years," he admitted.

"Master Tumnus said something like that to me when I was little," Lucy remarked as Edmund stood and helped her to her feet. He nodded, acknowledging that he'd heard, and cast his gaze around the ruins and the bodies strewn across the ground. Several Black Stags sprinted from the woods, some with mutilated bodies entangled in their antlers. One large Stag scraped his antlers against a tree trunk, and dark red blood streaked the rough brown bark.

"Sire, we have scouted and cannot find any more of these violators of your kindness; if any survived, they fled into the Western Wild," Mordred declared, coming up to the King. Edmund glanced over at the Wolf and smiled, glad his friend was alive.

"Well and good. Lucy, let's stop at Valkilandor before setting out to Cair, I feel all of us are in need of a decent night's rest," Edmund remarked, looking to his sister.

"Yes, I think that would be excellent; I am quite worn out after this battle!" Lucy agreed, whistling for her mount. The palomino stallion trotted out of the woods, skittering nervously at the sharp smell of fresh blood. Edmund let out a long, sharp whistle, and Night wheeled out of the darkness, tossing his head and stepping lightly, on edge.

The two siblings mounted their horses, ensured that everyone in their company wasn't too injured to walk, and set out for Edmund's residence of the Western Woods: Valkilandor.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So, this chapter saw a slight surprise, but the uprising of the Fell creatures has deeper meanings. There are some hints about why this happened, but they're not obvious. I'm quite certain, however, that they'll be made clear in the second installment to this trilogy. ;)**

 **Vari is a werewolf, yes. But my creatures are vastly different from those things of the film industries and Twilight. In Narnia AUs of mine, I like to bring Werecreatures, which means basically any animal that can turn into a human, from cats to falcons.**

 **Valkilandor is an AU castle belonging to Edmund, as I'm certain ya'll know by now! lol. I use the residence several times in many different AUs, so it is a set thing.**

 **Well, I really don't have anything left to say of this that I can remember!**

 **A Reader: I'm so glad you're enjoying my characters and the plot woven around them! I'm glad that you're interested in my tale enough to come back and read it and then every so often leave me a great review of what you thought! It really makes my day, :)**

 **I'm super glad you agree with my point and brought forth something to enforce it, even! Another fantastic way to make my day. I hope you continue reading until the end,**

 **WH**


	23. Is No Easy Feat

The two tired monarchs reached Valkilandor as the sun began to set over the mountains. The Stags were shown into a fine stable and given rub-downs by several fauns, and Day and Night were lead away after Edmund and Lucy dismounted. Edmund lifted his arm and draped it around his sister's shoulders, pulling her to his side as they walked toward the entryway of his residence, so that the two siblings were supporting one another. His torn and frayed cape fluttered at his sides, looking quite ruined.

As he and Lucy reached the large doorway, Emrys rushed out, white and black striped coat still damp from her long run from Cair to here. She had been away on a scouting party with a few of Edmund's other soldiers, but when she had returned and heard that her lord had gone to battle Werenkind in Darkening Wood, she had hurried to seek him out. She did not trust his safety to anyone but herself.

"My Lord, are you and your royal sister quite well?" she asked, her turquoise eyes showing anxiety while the rest of her countenance was calm.

"Yes, we're fine, but tired after what we have done; we are going to rest before returning to Cair Paravel on the morrow, Emrys," Edmund replied quietly, walking past her to enter his home. The Tigress nodded, before moving off silently into the courtyard and the night. She would visit the ruins herself to see just what her master and his sister had done. But from the blood upon their clothes, and the heavy scent the wind carried, she knew it had not been a simple skirmish.

 **~|:O:|~**

It had been a week and a half since Edmund had left with Queen Lucy, and Hadassa had found herself missing his familiar figure in the halls and at the dining table. She also realized that he had been right about Count Windmere. The man was subtle, but relentless. He continually tried to get her alone, and was always insinuating things or asking vague questions. She was beginning to despise the man.

Hadassa woke Salmere morning to the distant sound of music and cheerful shouts. Pulling the sheets off herself, she stood; grabbing a dressing gown from off the back of the vanity chair, she wrapped herself in it and opened her bedchamber door, looking into the corridor that led out onto the main passage. A Hare was hopping past, and she quickly addressed it.

"Pardon me, but, might I ask you a question?" she called in a loud whisper. The velvety grey Hare looked in the girl's direction before coming closer.

"Yes, Milady?" he asked, cocking his head and twitching his nose.

"I can hear music and shouting from my balcony, what is going on?" she asked, smiling in a friendly fashion.

"Oh, that is no secret!" The Hare smiled back, speaking excitedly. "The Just King and his Valiant sister have returned! They are unharmed and report that there is little likelihood of another attack occurring again!" He twitched his nose as he spoke, obviously a habit when he was excited.

"Thank you, forgive me for stopping you from going to your destination," she asked, bobbing her head slightly.

"Oh, it was no bother! I am going to welcome back the King and Queen!" With that he was off again; scampering down the passage as fast as his legs could carry him. Hadassa pulled back into her room and closed the door. She could not help the smile that came to her face, nor the slight color that covered her cheeks. The only thing that dampened her joy at Edmund's return was that she could not run down to him as a wife might to welcome him home. She was nothing but a guest, and that was painful to acknowledge.

 **~|:O:|~**

Peter and Susan hurried down the steps of Cair to greet their siblings as the two rode in on their horses, Edmund's Wolves and Tigers close around them. The Black Stags had remained behind in Darkening Wood to watch for any more strange happenings, but had told their master that if ever he wanted to go on a hunt, all he must do was send a Gryphon for them and they would come.

"Oh, it is so good to have you safe home!" Susan declared, hugging her sister happily. The Narnians had cheered for their monarchs in all the streets of Altair and right up to the gates of Cair Paravel. Even now a band of fauns, dryads and Dwarves played a gay Narnian tune.

"How was it?" Peter approached his brother, smiling with a hint of grimness as he clasped him on the shoulder in welcome. He understood the gruesomeness of war, and realized what Edmund had done could not have been easy. Killing one's subjects would never be easy when you cared for them as fiercely as Edmund did.

"It was... hard. But Lu was there to keep me from despairing overmuch," Edmund answered, glancing gratefully towards his sister as he finished.

Peter smiled genuinely, even daring to laugh slightly. "Yes, Lucy is good at that sort of thing, as I well know; I have confided in her several of my burdens and secrets, and she has helped me bear them in a way I might not have been able to." He appeared slightly thoughtful after he spoke.

"How have our _dear_ guests been in my absence?" Edmund asked with more than a hint of a mocking tone, grinning slyly at his brother.

"Quite well, though Heshlotte seemed put-out by your abrupt departure, and Feren remained with us instead of returning to his summer fortress up in the Stormness Mountains. I wonder why, but I suppose it's because he enjoys Narnia as much as the next Archenlander!" Peter chuckled, moving away from Edmund to embrace his little sister and welcome her back home.

"I can well imagine why Heshlotte is put-out, brother," Edmund muttered under his breath dryly. Tumnus and General Oreius clasped his hand and expressed their relief that he was safe home and quite well. And Peter's close friend, Topaz the Unicorn, told a horrid joke but was glad to see them also.

Edmund smiled and acted lively and happy enough around the Narnians, but for some strange reason, he felt as if he were missing a greeting. He could not understand why he felt this way; he had never thought something was missing before when he returned from wars, battles, or long trips, so why now did it strike him? He frowned thoughtfully when no one was looking, and sighed as he pondered the problem.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund walked into a sitting-type room two hours later, after changing from his traveling clothes and telling and retelling his tale over and over again. Like Lucy, he had excused himself to recover from the tiring journey from Valkilandor to Cair, besides the fact that they were sore from the fighting; Were-creatures were by no means weak beings.

The sitting-room was one of several small writing-and-miniature-library rooms throughout the castle, which had been Susan's idea not long after they'd been crowned. Edmund had entered it this morning only because he was certain he'd left a book he'd been reading in it, and he wanted to finish the novel. It was some sort of romantic telling of a Narnian tale. It had to do with the Black Dragon wars in the Gilt Age, and about a knight who slayed many of the feared beasts and went on to become the first king of Archenland.

He glanced at a stack of three books on a small table, but knew quickly that the book he sought was not among them. He looked up, and was startled to note that he was not alone; Hadassa sat curled comfortably on a divan by a long window; reading, if he wasn't mistaken, the novel he had come to find. He watched her, suddenly not so interested in acquiring the book.

A small smile found its way onto his face at her habits she had while reading. A finger rested against her lips as she read the page, her eyes widening as she came to perhaps an intense segment in the novel. Her hair was rather loosely done up, and several strands fell around her face, glinting a bronze color in the sun shining through the windows behind her. He was struck by the fact that she wasn't wearing one of those ghastly new-fashioned Telmarine styles. It was one of the older kinds, of a pale peach color, and he rather liked her in it.

He couldn't help it, he crossed the room – not even disturbing her she was so involved in her reading – and stood quite close to where she sat. "Enjoying the book?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh!" she gasped, startled, and quickly looked up; the pages of the novel fanned out once she took her fingers off them. "S-sire, I, I mean, King Edmund –" she looked flustered.

"How far have you read to?" he asked calmly, kneeling beside the couch and reaching out to hold down the pages where she had had them open to.

"Prince Col is trying to save Sir Fen from being killed by Gölge the Terrible," she answered, her voice slightly breathless. Edmund nodded, looking down at the book's pages with interest.

"I have not got that far; I was forced to stop reading little ways after Gölge kills Lord Merne and his companion Starfire the Unicorn. What has happened since then?" he asked, looking up at her. She glanced at him, but quickly looked down at the book on her lap, pursing her lips absently as she thought back. With a bit of surprise he found himself thinking that she seemed very kissable in this moment. He could not even have a simple conversation with the girl without thinking of something untoward!

"Prince Col has slain many of the Black Dragons, including Gölge's sibling, Altın Silvereyes– I believe that was her name? The maiden Hyfryd has said she loves the Prince, and does not truly care for the man her father wishes her to marry. She followed the Prince, disguised as a squire at first, and now fights Dragons alongside him…" she trailed off, looking at Edmund earnestly.

As she'd started speaking, glancing at him more and more until she didn't look away, he realized that he had missed _her_ when he'd been welcomed home. He had been searching the cheerful crowd of Narnians looking for _her_ face among them. It was unnerving that such a small person could make him so content to be back home again.

A slight, hesitant smile came to her face. "I am glad you're home," she said softly, no falseness at all in her countenance.

"I am glad to be back," he answered, closing and slipping the novel from her fingers, setting it under the edge of the divan.

With a small sound of contentment she practically jumped from the divan into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck and resting her head on his chest. "I missed you terribly, and did not understand exactly what I was feeling until I heard you had returned unharmed, Edmund," she murmured, relaxing against him. Slipping an arm under her legs and one supporting her back, he stood easily.

"When I discovered that you had come back, oh, how I wanted to see you, but I could not; not without it being improper," she whispered emotionally, looking up at him.

"I was in Valkilandor when I came upon the same conclusion as to my restlessness. I have never been so impatient to return to Cair before," he returned, smiling slightly.

"I'm afraid to admit, but before I was reading, I was daydreaming about what it might be like to welcome you home without it being considered improper; I found the novel several days ago, and used it to distract me from worrying over what might happen to you," she admitted, her arms tightening around his neck at the uncomfortable memory.

"I'm here now," he answered, tilting his head to kiss her as he spoke. She sighed, wanting to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back. "Not now, someone might interrupt us without knowing it. Come to me tonight?" he asked, a questioning look in his brown eyes.

"But that is so long from now! And I was told by your sister, Queen Susan, that there shall be a banquet this evening for your return. I have not seen you in little over eleven days– it has been fourteen since last you kissed me!" She sounded frustrated, and he might have laughed, except that he wanted her just as terribly.

"Tonight, Hadassa," he answered resolutely, slipping her down onto her feet again.

"But another kiss before you go?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully.

"Certainly," he acquiesced, pulling her close abruptly and kissing her. When she started to lean closer, sighing, he parted, pulling her arms from around his neck and turning to leave the room. He hadn't left with what he'd come for, but was as pleased as if he had.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 ***Salmere: the day of the Narnian week equivalent to Sunday. Refer to _"Regarding Countries & Fantasy Worlds"_ **

**Valkilandor is rather an unusual word, in that it means, to me, in my language 'chosen warrior of the land,' so it's rather loosely based on Edmund's background, in that he was chosen to defend his land, which is basically the Western Woods. Valkilandor, in my imagination, looks out over this vast forest from the fingers of the Twilight Mountains in the west, that I created to build up Narnia. Sorry for that bit of history regarding my creations, I just felt that I've never really done an in-depth of this fortress/castle as I should have.**

 **I think perhaps this chapter moves too rapidly regarding their relationship, but then I think of the long, arduous journey we're yet to undertake to get to the end and think better of such complications. Ya'll shall certainly have to tell me!**

 **Gölge the Terrible: a large Black Dragon of the Western Wilds that came to live in the regions that would become known as Archenland. He was one hundred and nine feet in length, with a wingspan that would equal somewhere around two hundred feet and ten inches or so. He acquired his title from his brutal killings and burnings of settlers in lands near the so-to-be-known Archish borders. **

**Altın Silvereyes: another Black Dragon, the younger hatchling of ****Gölge in the Stormness Mountains bordering and extending into the Western Wilds and eventually joining the Twilight Mountains in Narnia.** **Altın gained her second name from her unusual silver eyes, which seemed to shine as liquid silver in firelight. She was a murderous Dragon, and very cunning; and fond of people who spoke eloquently to her, with "silver tongues". A legend was that her eyes became their silver color after she devoured a sorcerer who was a great man with words; a greater "silver tongue" was not to be found besides him, the story went.**

 **I shall eventually add these characters into "Regarding Countries & Fantasy Worlds" under an new chapter for Archish histories and etcetera.**

 **Important Note: I am having changes at home, so the updating frequency of my chapters for every single story I have written will change, most-likely to once a week on Tuesdays. I may get a random chapter up occasionally, but, not as often as I have done in the past. I'm so sorry!**

 **WH**


	24. I'm A Man,

Hadassa felt as if she had been talking to a different man when Edmund had held her and smiled, almost laughing, even. She slowly sat down on the edge of the divan again, a contented – almost dreamy – expression on her face. However, reality was too quick to set in. Days before she had been worrying over being thrown from Efrain's house for her conduct, and now she was – quite willingly – going back to the Just King with his changing temper and confounding character. She had no certain guarantee he would be this welcoming or good-natured later; there was no guarantee his character would not change in a minute!

"What am I doing? I must certainly be a fool," she murmured to herself, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and leaning back against the arm of the divan. She glanced down at the book, wishing she had anyone but herself to blame for these strange circumstances.

 **~|\\\0/\0/|~**

Edmund stroked the dark nose of the black stallion thoughtfully, grabbing the halter and gently pulling Night's head back down when he jerked it away slightly. He remembered when the horse had first come to him as a young, long-legged colt from the Calormene deserts with anything but love for humans burning in his dark eyes. Peter had at first been adamant that Edmund not accept it, saying that the colt was too wild a horse to ever hope to train. But Edmund had in the end overruled his brother's words, and kept the horse.

"We have seen many things, you and I, haven't we?" he remarked quietly, looking up at the horse, an affectionate expression in his brown eyes. "Strange, fearsome things which no man might believe were he told." He rested his forehead against the stallion's nose, the horse quieting. He enjoyed Phillip's company, but there were times when he was grateful for 'dumb' horses. He needed to speak to someone that would keep his secrets and not judge his actions. Night was just such a horse.

After some time of whispering to his horse, Edmund straightened and moved to leave the stables. Peter and his sisters wanted to talk about the rebellion in the west, and he was the only one who truly knew why it had risen; he did not relish having to tell them it was regarding his rule. He sighed, absently clenching and unclenching the fingers of his right hand. He jumped, startled, when he realized he was doing it. He hadn't done such things since…

"I have to tell her, don't I?" he mused to himself, looking uncertain and confused– a most unusual combination for the Just King. But not yet, he reassured himself; not just yet.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund pushed open the door to the small council room his brother and sisters used to convene in to discuss matters of state or war. Around the room, signs of the four monarchs were clearly displayed. Edmund's relaxed, cool, and slightly malevolent character was hidden in the paperwork and documents of wars, strategies for wars, secret service, and reports from scouting parties.

Peter's action and fire was in the daggers pinning objects to the tabletops, walls, and shelves to keep them readable, and in the weapons displayed on a rack at the far side of the room. Susan's order and diplomacy was in the tidiness, cleanliness, fine furnishings, and the many variant flags of different nations and kingdoms hanging from the ceiling like banners.

And Lucy, the darling of the three older siblings, the one that Edmund knew kept them from becoming bitter, serious souls, radiated off everything. On several of the dossiers she had perhaps sketched drawings or painted some small scene. Against a wall was a small table bearing a tray of either lemonade or tea – depending upon the season it was sometimes hot chocolate – and the windows were framed by gauzy drapes. Edmund loved her for her brightness, this sun-bright personality that belonged only to Lucy.

"Ah, Ed, we were beginning to wonder if one of us might have to go find you!" Susan moved around the table to greet her brother with a touch on the arm and a kindly smile that was her way. Edmund nodded, and braced himself for the pain that was certain to come with the retelling of the Western Wood's minor rebellion.

"Lucy told us what little you made her privy to, so we only awaited your deeper explanation," Peter remarked, casting his gaze momentarily over the map spread out on the table upon which he rested his hands.

"There is little to tell. Vari did tell me that there was something heard of the Werecreatures discovering a relic belonging to Jadis, but it is merely a rumor; besides, there is nothing belonging to that witch that I cannot destroy," Edmund returned firmly, not wishing to alarm them when there was no cause for such things.

"And what was the cause; surely there was some reason," Susan spoke up, a frown gracing her lovely features. Her skirts swished slightly against the table leg as she waited, shifting into a more comfortable stance– an archer's stance, though she never seemed to notice it.

"They were not pleased with my rule; apparently I have not done well by them; I should have let them kill more and roam freely less. Werecreatures care a great deal for order and direction; if any are left which are not of my loyal band, I shall see how I might go about employing them in some useful services this time around," Edmund answered, smiling grimly. Internally, he was thinking something much darker, but he needn't share that with his siblings. The west was his to do with almost entirely as he pleased, he needn't involve them overmuch.

"Hmm, I understand; this is not good," Peter mused aloud, reaching up and running his fingers absently over his well-kept beard as he thought over what his brother had said.

"No, but there is no more cause for unease; Lu and I finished off the leaders and nearly all of the troublemakers– whatever is left will not soon be back. However, I do think I might be forced to venture out there before the guests are gone; I might take several short trips to Valkilandor over the course of the coming months," Edmund admitted some of his plans with well-concealed reluctance.

"If you ever need any help, please let me know, Eddie; I do not like the idea of you always handling such things on your own; we can help," Lucy spoke up, almost hesitantly coming closer to her brother to lightly rest her fingers on his arm. She looked earnestly up at him, an understanding shining keenly through her gold-brown eyes.

"Of course, Lu, whatever you like," Edmund replied, allowing a smile for his little sister. The sunshine to his shadow, he knew he could not survive without her to hold him together. Somehow she understood him better than the others, though she was not privy to everything, she seemed to know that only Aslan made his burdens truly lift.

The talk turned from the west to other things, and the four monarchs of Narnia discussed many a diverse topic for several hours. Time always had a way of fading and seeming nothing at all when they came together.

 **~|\\\0/\0/|~**

Hadassa seated herself, ever so often glancing down at Edmund seated across from Coronilla and beside the Baron, Ninvialazar. To her left, Count Feren sat, and Hadassa was slightly upset about the arrangement, though she was careful to keep such feelings of displeasure to herself. At one point, she noticed Edmund glance at her and frown; something told her he was not pleased by the seating arrangement, either.

When she looked at him, she occasionally realized she was blushing, recalling their conversation in the sitting room. A small smile came to her face as she watched Edmund. He was talking to a noble beside him, absently tugging on the end of a black curl by his ear. She thought it a charming characteristic, and felt that if he could but lighten his attitude toward others, and his fearsome gaze, he could very well be the most eligible man in Narnia.

"And what is a young maiden thinking of with such a becoming color to her cheeks?" The low whisper startled her out of her thoughts, and she dipped her head down, once more taking great care with the plate before her, and trying fervently to ignore Count Feren's impertinent question.

"I suppose that is your secret, but I can well believe you are daydreaming about some bold young lad left behind in Telmar," the Count murmured with a slightly teasing tone of voice that Hadassa was quickly learning to loathe.

She lifted her gaze momentarily to find Edmund staring in her direction, a displeased light in his eyes as they drifted over Feren leaning toward Hadassa at a nearly improper angle. For some reason, that had a strong effect upon her demure attitude. "Yes, what I think of are my little secrets to keep, and you should do very well to keep your nose away from them."

She was startled to hear herself whisper those words in reply; apparently so was Feren, for he straightened away from her and resumed his dinner. Hadassa dared sneak another glance, and found herself staring into Edmund's eyes; he had been watching her respond to the Count, the barest traces of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She wished only that it were Edmund beside her instead of Feren, and then the dinner would have been complete.

 **~|\\\0/\0/|~**

Edmund leaned against the wall at the back of the room as he watched his sisters play some Narnian instruments for their guests and for entertainment as they sometimes did in the evenings after dinner. He had been annoyed to notice Feren and his antics towards Hadassa, but watching her defend herself had sent a pleased feeling shooting through him that he could not divine a meaning to.

With a relaxed sigh he closed his eyes, feeling pleasantly drowsy for the first time in months; perhaps even years. It was strange relief to want to go to bed; to _want_ to sleep. With a start, he opened his eyes as his sisters drew to a close. Scanning the room, he realized that Peter appeared tired, and Lucy concealed a yawn behind her hand artfully as she lowered her instrument. Then they began to bid they tired guests good-night.

Heshlotte walked past him, ahead of her brother. Edmund moved forward quickly, whispering for only her to hear, "I have decided the matter; we shall discuss it tomorrow." The Telmarine lady nodded, and went on her way; though Edmund was sure she seemed a deal more content. He frowned, hating that someone could be so pleased to rid themselves of their sibling. At least he had never thought to stoop to murder in that area.

"Good-night, King Edmund," Efrain declared, nodding sharply to him and passing out of the room. Coronilla and Hadassa passed him, each doing a brief curtsy. Edmund had only a moment to watch them go before he was bidding nightly adieus to several other nobles and Narnians. Feren somehow managed to slip out without his notice, and that irked Edmund somewhat, but he was careful to conceal it.

"I do believe that today was a success!" Lucy declared, once again covering a heavy yawn, blinking her eyes rapidly as she endeavored to remain awake.

"In spite of the unfortunate circumstances that ensued in the west, I agree that it is quite a pleasing day," Edmund agreed, bowing slightly to his sister and giving her a little half-smile.

"If you three are content to remain and chat away the night, then do so, but I have an early rising tomorrow and must find my way to my chambers for the night; Aslan keep you, my dear brother and sisters," Peter tiredly declared, smiling at them as he moved to depart.

"We're coming, brother!" Susan called gaily after him, though her voice rang wearily. She reached out and pulled each younger sibling into a brief hug before moving, arm-in-arm, with Lucy out the door. Edmund turned and watched them leave, Lucy resting her head on Susan's shoulder and Susan resting her head on Lucy's.

Edmund stood still for a moment before leaving also, giving the room over to the servants that were waiting to tidy it up and return things to their proper places.

 **~|:O:|~**

He walked into his bedchambers, unclasping his cape and laying it haphazardly over his desk chair. With a tired sigh Edmund reached up and removed his crown, placing it with a dull clang upon the desktop. His fingers drifted absently over it as he sat down in his chair. He gazed at it for a moment before tugging off his boots, tossing them away from the desk into a corner near the bookcases.

As he stood and began moving to his bed, he unlaced his shirt at the neck, loosening it comfortably. With a sigh of contentment, he lay down on top of the sheets, closing his eyes. It was wonderful to be tired, so truly wonderful.

 **~|:O:|~**

Fingers ran slowly through his hair, gently tugging out tangles in the dark curls. He began raising his arm, to reach for the hand, but stopped, not wanting to bother; if it was a dream, he did not wish to wake from it; if it were reality, he did not want to think too hard upon the consequences. But the kiss pressed slowly to his lips was impossible to ignore. He pushed himself upright, opening his eyes as the person moved away.

Hadassa sat on his bed, a soft smile on her face and a light in her eyes he could not identify. "How…" he gathered his thoughts as he woke from sleep, "Did you get in my chambers?" he asked in a whisper.

"The door in the hidden passage had not been closed fully nor locked, so I took a liberty and entered. But I was careful to secure it behind me," she answered softly.

"I did not think you would dare come," he admitted, reaching out, drawing her to his side as he stretched back out on the bed, letting her rest against him.

"I promised the King, and he allowed it; of course I should keep to my promise," she answered with a smile, resting her hand over his chest as she shifted into a comfortable position in the crook of his arm.

"I wonder… is he a wise or foolish man for what he does?" Edmund murmured, closing his eyes.

"I cannot say, my Lord…" Hadassa sighed, her eyes slowly blinking closed. The ocean echoed distantly as crashes against the coastline while the two fell asleep.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hello, I'm back, didja miss me? Sorry... Sherlock fan right here, who just happens to be dying for the new year to bring and end to the horribly long hiatus I've been forced to endure! No, I don't ship Johnlock, so force me to jump from a building. I ship Sherlolly, sue me.**

 **Anywhoo... Sorry for that brief lapse of sanity, but I had to get that out. Now, on to the real author's note for this chapter! :)**

 **So... apparently Edmund has two sides... technically three: _enigmatic, dark, and cutting_ ; enigmatic, brooding, viciously cruel; and **sweet, loving, affectionate, and very close to adoring **.**

 **He's getting to his little-known third side with Hadassa, obviously. Will it ever get there completely? We'll just have to see, clearly. This chapter was fun for me to write; I honestly have no idea why. But I think it has something to do with the fact that there are a couple foreshadowing's for the second book in it. *grins secretively***

 **Poor Hadassa, as Fiordineve so aptly said of her. I just... honestly, Eddie, I wish you would stop treating her like this! But then we'd have no story and I wouldn't have any reason to be writing this author's note! ;)**

 **I don't know why I put in the bit with Edmund talking to Night, but I suppose it's because Edmund just strikes me as a person who would have some sort of affinity for horses- Talking and Non-Talking alike. Ii feel similarly about horses, as I have revealed in earlier author's notes, so that's in part where the idea stems from.** **But the other place is... Edmund. Need I say more? I thought not. :)**

 **The end of this chapter is based on a John Wayne film titled " _Hellfighters_ " which I like a great deal. It's a nod to the movie, at any rate. Of course, Greg asks Trish what she's doing there... but it's all good! *smiles all around!***

 **So... Edmund mentions something that is very important for the second book, and something that pertains to something that happens in the Prince Caspian film- can anyone guess?**

 **There's something wrong with FFN, or it's just me, but I cannot see new reviews, especially long ones, Fiordineve, unless I read them in my incoming email! It's killing me. So, I felt like I had to tell you guys. Just in case you wonder what's taking me so long to respond to your reviews.**

 **Nevertheless, many thanks to all you wonderful readers and/or reviewers! Ya'll are wonderful and I really have no words that can describe how I feel when I open my laptop and discover that there's a new review for me to read! It's inspiring and humbling at the same time.**

 **Ya'll are the awesome ones, not me! Fiordineve, that goes largely to you as well! Those reviews are fantastic and truly inspiring! Happy New Year!**

 **WH**


	25. I Was Born To Hate

_"I swear, I know not… what you speak of…"_

 _The pain! He exhaustedly bowed his head, only for it to be roughly jerked back up by a hand yanking on his hair, forcing him to stare into his captor's dark eyes burning with some emotion he was too tired to bother interpreting._

 _"You lie!"_

 _"I beg you, please don't; there is no plot! I beg you!" He had no power to do anything but stare at the blade the man held as he walked closer, his grasp around the hilt tightening._

"Edmund!"

He woke with a shout, jerking upright, waking from the dream to find he had thrown his arms over his face, his body trembling horribly from the anxiety brought on by the nightmare.

"Edmund, it is all right, you are safe here in Cair Paravel; nothing dare harm you inside these walls," a woman's voice whispered softly, soothingly, while gentle fingers combed his damp hair back from his face, and a cool palm cupped his warm cheek reassuringly. He looked down with slightly wary eyes at Hadassa, who was sitting up beside him in his bed.

"I shall never be free of this darkness," he whispered to himself, drawing his knees up and resting his head on them, forcing himself to relax, to even out his breathing. "Never, never be free. _She_ promised me I would not forget… He swore such things too…" His voice ended in a despaired moan of bitterness and frustration.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa watched him carefully, afraid and concerned. His low moans had woken her, and his cries of pain had alarmed her. Once, when she had watched a young solider under Efrain's command return to the estate in Telmar, she had chanced to see him screaming and raving on about war and the bloodshed brought about by it. Coronilla had told her that it had driven him mad, all the death of those around him and the loss of his comrades.

It frightened her to see someone like Edmund – though she knew all the stories surrounding the King – so strong and impassively enigmatic, reduced to cries in the night in result of some terrible thing he had suffered. "What did you dream of?" she asked quietly, resting a light hand on his arm wrapped around his drawn up legs. How she hated to see him in this state!

"It is the same… The dark room, the chains… The soldiers and the questions he constantly asked. I knew the answers not, yet still he hounded me. I would plead, but my cries seemed as silent as the wind on the sea. I begged, I screamed, and he left me with this for all my cries of mercy." He lifted his head, reaching up to pull down the collar of his shirt, revealing the scar she had asked of so many nights past.

"I am sorry." Hadassa did not know what more to say to him, and it made her heart ache to think she could offer little comfort.

"And so many other scars besides… I never begged after that time. Never again would I lower myself to such a level." She noticed his right hand had clenched tightly. She leaned forward, lifting it and uncurling his fingers to slip her own between them.

"What did he want to know that was not?" she asked, looking into his eyes which held a far-off gaze, a strong desire to know his answer reflecting in her own.

"He wished I tell him of some secret plot I had concocted against Telmar, to make the kingdom fall. There was no such plot, but he did not believe me." He glanced over at her. "I was seventeen; the age you are now, if my memory is not far off." A question appeared in his dark eyes, and she nodded her head slightly in affirmation.

"Who was this man that he could be so unkind?" she whispered, bewilderment in her eyes because she could not understand such malevolence in a fellow human being.

"Should I tell you, it would drive you away from me; I do not think I could bear that just yet." Edmund reached over, slowly pushing a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, seeming to be studying her face.

"Then tell me when you think I can bear it; I do not like that you keep it secret when it so clearly haunts you." She allowed him to avoid answering her question, for as the shock of the nightmare and his cries wore off, she realized to whom she was speaking, and what she was saying so freely. She was glad he had not noticed, and reprimanded her for saying such things.

"I may," he agreed in a whisper, surprising her slightly by answering.

She watched him for a moment, as he glanced toward the balcony and his breathing steadied to an easier rhythm. Perhaps she was here for times like these, to take his mind from such troubling dreams and memories that could certainly no more injure him. She leaned forward slightly, causing him to glance over at her with brown eyes filled with pain for something long over.

"Cease thinking of such things anymore tonight; ghosts of the past cannot hurt us, they merely wish to cause us grief for things we have not the power to control. Don't let your heart be troubled by something it was not within your power to bring about an end to. Do not let it hold power over you, when it can do no more harm," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"And yet, there are times I wonder how much harm it has still to do," he answered in a low voice. She did not like the cold tone she noticed creeping into it. It stirred fear, and she was tired of fearing the mysterious Just King. Moments before, he had been just a man – a broken man, an anguished man, true – but still just a man, searching for some way to vanquish what haunted him.

"Why must you say such things?" The words came from her mouth before she could revoke them from her tongue. She pulled back, becoming bitterly aware of who he was– what he was capable of. So many whispers of him in Telmar echoed through the halls of Court. He was dangerous, deadly, to be feared. How quickly might he tired of her and bring her to an end that looked an accident?

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund turned to stare at her. Who was she to speak to him as such? A dark shadow inside the Just King regarded the young woman before him with cold brown eyes. The darkness flickered, daring to grow stronger in his moment of unguarded terror from memories of days long passed. She knew so little. She, who spoke to him as an equal, who dared argue against his words, was nothing. He should hate her for who her father had been, for what the man had forced him to suffer.

"You are pitiful, to think you can endure _my_ darkness. Grow up, child, and run from this chaos while there is yet time to determine the path out." He jerked away from her, standing and walking toward the balcony, dark hair tumbling over his shoulders, his skin looking no less paler with the bleached whiteness of his loose shirt to contrast it.

 _"And how less pathetic are you,_ _ **sire**_ _, to think she might bring you peace. Such a thing may never find you, broken and shattered as you are,"_ his mind taunted him cruelly as he stepped between the curtains and onto the balcony. His terrors would destroy him, he felt with sorrow. They would drive everyone away until he was alone. He longed for Aslan to come to him, to bring him peace.

Edmund stiffened when a hand rested on his shoulder, slipped down his arm to lie just over his wrist. His skin tingled at her touch where his sleeve did not cover it. He whirled, twisting his hand around rapidly and grabbing her wrist, forcing her back against the wall of the castle.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa watched him go, tears forming in her eyes. She blinked them back, and thought with trembling breath what to do. The young woman was too inexperienced with the Just King's startling turns of mood to realize this was one that would pass with the morning… perhaps. She shook her head slightly, closing her eyes for a moment, dark lashes damp from held back tears. She opened them again, looking toward the balcony where he had gone. Resolutely, she slipped off the bed and walked quietly toward the curtains.

She slipped between them to see him standing at the balustrade, staring out at the dark ocean sightlessly, the wind blowing against him, tangling in his dark curls, pushing at him unfeelingly. Hadassa walked up to him, at first she hesitantly placed her hand on his shoulder, but, growing confidant, she slid it down his arm, centimeters shy of slipping her hand in his.

Some part of her expected his reaction, but another part of her was struck sharply by the emotionless stare in his eyes. She wanted to weep, it was so heartless. His fingers grasped her wrist tightly, twisting it until she was just barely aware of a dull pain. She choked back a gasp, her eyes flying to meet his instead of look away in her timid fashion she had been brought up in.

"Can you stand such pain as I have endured?" he asked in a cutting whisper. "Can you abstain from giving in and begging for mercy after hours – days – of like agony?" he demanded, leaning closer, his fingers tightening on her wrist, twisting it just a little more.

She could not help the sound of pain that escaped her, nor the tears that tracked down her cheeks slowly, though she strove to blink them back. She didn't speak; afraid she might break into sobs. "N-no, I d-don't know!" she finally answered in a trembling whisper that ended in a soft cry.

"If you seek that emotion fools deign call love, you cannot receive it from me, Hadassa, I –" he stopped short, a confused light entering his dark eyes. His grasp on her wrist slipped, and he let her go, staring off blindly at the castle wall over her shoulder behind her.

 **~|:O:|~**

When he had said her name, it was as if some raging thing was silenced in his soul, and it startled him. He was aware of how tightly he held her, and knew he was causing her pain; he released her wrist, guilt washing over him in a startling wave. "Hadassa…" He looked at her again, feeling the lowest of men for bringing that fear into her beautiful eyes. He moved a hand toward her, and she pushed back against the wall, wary of being struck.

"Hadassa, forgive me, I-I was not… I have no excuse," he finished in a whisper, looking down, his black hair sweeping over his forehead.

Slightly trembling fingers touched the top of his hand, and he could sense more than see her moving slightly closer. Without his consent, his heartbeat quickened, and he wondered what she would do. He clenched his hand tightly until his palm ached, wanting to feel something in this moment besides fear; fear that she would leave. He did not like being afraid.

Her dark head rested on his chest, and she said nothing, her fingers entwining through his. He exhaled slowly, turning his head to stare out over the balcony to the world past the castle, to the ocean and all the unknown that lay beyond. Hadassa shifted slightly, standing closer to him.

"Hadassa… I– there are times when I am sane, and times when I believe I could be paces from a nightmare; days when all is laid before me clearly, and others where the lines between justice and perversion are blurred. Sometimes, I think I'm nothing but a man who was born to hate. It is so much simpler to be cold and emotionless than considerate and warm." Momentarily he closed his eyes, before opening them and staring off into the darkness.

Her head lifted, and she looked up at him intently, eyes searching his face. After a moment, he gazed back, wondering what she thought of him now. He had been unguarded, he was concealing nothing. How many had stared at him with eyes displaying both horror and morbid curiosity? He remembered when he had been drunk, and Peter had asked him all those questions. He remembered the expression that had come across his brother's face as he silently poured another glass– the agony in his eyes.

But the longer he stared into Hadassa's calming blue gaze he did not see what he had beheld in others'.

"I understand, Edmund. From the moment–" she looked away for a fleeting second, "from the moment I saw you, I understood that you were not an ordinary man. You are a king of Narnia, and are looked to for guidance. But you have learnt the price of protecting and guiding a people you love, and that makes you more than a king of Narnia." He watched as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"You have come to understand that to love also means suffering and death, and think that to withhold it shall spare you the agony you may be forced to endure. Please, don't lock away your love because it means to be in pain. Do not let the blackness within wither your soul. Love and feel pain, because to love is to be on fire, but darkness is to die without hope," she whispered, lifting their clasped hands between them, looking up at him with an earnest expression upon her face.

"Then you are my fire," he whispered in return, leaning closer until their foreheads touched. "You are my fire."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, apparently the review thing has been mended! That was so weird. I have no idea what happened there. Needless to say, I'm back to replying to your reviews! *happy dance* So, um, this was an interesting chapter... *scuffs feet, looks down* I have no idea what happened. All right?**

 **But this chapter, especially the end, is based on this quote: _"I loved her, not for the way she danced with my angels but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons."_ \- Christopher Pointdexter.**

 **That's the main reason why he stops talking after saying her name. The main reason he changes there. Her name, like Aslan's, brings him gentler emotions and peaceful quiet. That quote also happens to be one of a few that began the idea for this story.**

 **The title for this chapter and the one previous are from a song by Keane called " _A Bad Dream_ " from the album _Under the Iron Sea._ The verse goes as follows: **

**_Where will I meet my fate?  
Baby I'm a man, I was born to hate  
And when will I meet my end? _  
_In a better time you could be my friend._**

 **I just felt that this song generally fit Edmund, so I used it.**

 **Guest Reviewer: I don't know if you're one of the regulars, but even so, welcome to the story or welcome back! :) Always nice to hear feedback from someone regardless. I hope my clues and hints eventually come together for you! Sorry that they're rather spaced out for the moment, but that's the way this book decided to be!**

 **Edmund is jealous of Feren, isn't he? I love the fact that he's not really ready yet to admit that that's what he's feeling whenever he sees the Archenlander talk to Hadassa! *laughs* I'm glad you like the way Hadassa and Edmund interact, they are different around one another, aren't they?**

 **Yes, and of course the Lucy-with-Edmund moments are also rather favorite parts for me also, mainly because I just love writing them as siblings: Lucy the one who never fell and was always the closest to Aslan. Edmund, the one who fell and became close to Aslan because of what he'd done. Yes, Lucy understands Edmund very well, which I think makes sense in a way. The light and the dark, though different, are similar and understand one another in ways that we cannot comprehend.**

 **Let me tell _you_ something: This made my day! **

"I think I get as happy when I notice a new chapter as when you notice a new review. So, thanks for writing so fantastically! Happy new year"

 **I had a happy new year indeed, and I surely hope and wish you did too! :) I hope I continue to write in a pleasing fashion for all my wonderful readers!**

 **To any reviews I missed: I loved them and I love hearing from ya'll; totally makes this an awesome experience!**

 **WH**


	26. Where Something Begins

He woke slowly, the breeze coming off the ocean brushing over him; the sunlight shining over the water through the parted curtains of his balcony warming his skin. But what forced him into attentiveness was the hand on his chest, fingers clutching the loose material of his shirt lightly. Dark strands of hair trailed over his shoulder, and when he looked to his left, he found himself gazing down at Hadassa, her head resting against his side, a serenity and innocence about her face which somehow reminded him of Lucy.

But the peace was too soon ended when he realized he must return her to her chambers before someone realized she was not in them. He shifted, and she woke, blinking slowly, moving her hand from his chest to cover her mouth when she gave a small yawn. Sleepily, she cast her gaze around, leveling it on him with a soft smile. He smiled back, realizing that because of the strange night his terrors had caused them to have, she wasn't fully awake. He was not wrong in this guess when she stretched slightly, lying against him, and her eyes closed once more.

He shook his head, clearing the thoughts that were rising, and stood slowly, wanting to be careful not to wake her for some reason. Making certain that the comforter covered her to keep her warm, ensuring that she wouldn't become chilled by the wind coming off the ocean, he moving to put on his boots. He sat still in his desk chair for a moment, hands clasping absently the gilded wolves' head armrests. He startled himself, realizing he had been mindlessly staring, letting his mind range over a wide, endless plain of everything and nothing.

He stood and moved over to the side of the bed. He wondered at first how best to wake her, but then decided against doing that. After a brief moment of decision, he leaned over and picked her up, mildly surprised at how light she was. Her eyes opened, and she looked up at him for a moment, before putting her arms around his neck and resting her head against his shoulder tiredly.

He glanced down at her, and then moved toward the door in the wall leading to the passages behind it.

 **~|:O:|~**

The most trying part of this entire adventure had been getting through the back of her wardrobe; it had been made for clothes, not a man nearly six foot two. But, with some artful ducking and turning of his tall frame, he managed it easily enough. Stepping out into her chambers, he realized he had not been in the rooms for some years. Susan had redecorated them, he noted, gazing round the room for but a moment and taking in the white draperies hanging across the balcony and the honey-colored furnishings which added to the quarters by making it more bright and appealing to the eye.

Edmund moved past most of the furniture since that was not his reason for entering this room. Carefully he laid Hadassa on her bed and then removed her arms from around his neck. He looked down at her for a moment, something peaceful finding him with her steady breathing and easy sleep. He turned, and moving swiftly, crossed the room and stepped back through the wardrobe and into the passage beyond, careful to close the hidden door behind him. With a deep sigh of exhaustion, he ran his fingers through his hair and set off for his chambers.

Coming back to them, he closed the door firmly behind him, twisting the key in the lock. His gaze lighted on his desk, and several reports from yesterday which he should attend to, but then it fell on his bed, and all he had a desire to do at that point was sleep. He didn't think he could ponder difficult decisions and orders for the moment. Pausing only to take off his boots, he tumbled back into the bed, relieved to finally find some untroubled sleep.

 **~|:O:|~**

"Edmund!"

"Edmund open this door straightaway or I shall be forced to break it down!" The High King glanced over at his sisters, some manner of concern upon his face. Lucy and Susan looked back with equally worried expressions. It was only a month and a half past that someone had tried to murder their brother– what if they had returned?

"Edmund, open this door!" Susan, usually calm and reserved, hurried forward and rapped sharply against the door.

"If he does not open it or answer us in due time, I'll send for someone to break it down," Peter informed his sisters.

Edmund had missed the morning council and Court session, which was unlike him. Concerned when he did not join them an hour ago in their private rooms, they set off in search of him, careful to let the guests remain undisturbed as it was still rather early in the morning. But the breakfast meal was fast approaching, and certainly the Telmarine visitors would question his absence from such a thing.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund lifted his head from the bed, raking his fingers through his wildly tangled curls as he looked toward his bedchamber door which was now silent. By the Lion, who was doing that awful pounding? He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the canopy above thoughtfully, trying to remember if the night before had actually taken place or was a dream. As he convinced himself that it had been actual reality and not a fantasy of his mind, an attention-grabbing banging from the other side of his locked door startled him. He jerked into a sitting position, a disapproving look on his handsome face directed at the door.

Slowly he stood and walked over to it, trying to tame down his unruly hair before unlatching the door. He took a step back when faced with his siblings, all three with rather pale and somewhat frightened faces.

"What is wrong?" he asked, concern coming into his eyes. "Has Telmar declared war? Is…" he thought carefully for a moment. "Is Count Efrain displeased about something?"

"Edmund, we thought that assassin had tried to strike again!" Lucy exclaimed, entering the room.

"You missed this morning's Court session and etcetera," Peter declared with no small hint of dryness.

"Why did you not– you've been sleeping?" Susan suddenly took in her brother's appearance. He never slept this late into the morning! Was he ill? Or was he feeling better? Susan regarded him critically, though such concerns did not show upon her fair features.

"I– yes, yes I am– I was, dear sister," he stopped, clasping his hands loudly, nodding his head in some self-agreement. "I have not felt so well-rested in many a year," he declared. "In fact, I have not felt so good-tempered. Where are my blades? I want to do something invigorating this morning!" He had not felt like this before; so bright and interested in life. The last time he'd been like this had been about three years into their coronation. After that, things changed.

"I'll be down for the morning meal, certainly! Forgive me for missing Court; I pray I can make amends for such thoughtlessness on the morrow?" he asked casually, smiling one of his rare bright smiles.

Peter grinned back. "Very well, I can forgive you for giving us such a fright. And I suppose Court and all can wait until the morrow. Get dressed and join us for breakfast, would you? We don't want the Telmarines to think any less of us than they do already!" Peter jested, turning to go.

"I'm just relieved I shan't have to use my cordial on you, Eddie," Lucy admitted with a cheerful laugh. Edmund smiled at her.

"So am I, sister, so am I," he murmured as she left.

"Please, do try to refrain from testing my nerves in such a manner, brother, I do not enjoy it," Susan declared with a fond expression, looking at him as she passed from the room and out into the corridor leading to the hall.

"You? I know the Gentle Queen better than any king; you have nerves of steel, my sister," he murmured to himself as he closed the door behind them. Today felt certain to be a remarkable day! He shook his head, but was unable to remove the smile on his face.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I _know,_ short chapter again! Sorry ya'll for taking so long to turn this out, and for turning out a short chapter after so long a wait, but, well, I struggled to write this out, and get past the previous chapter without writing something that would seem as if I was completely blowing off the last chapter. Anything after that would've felt like too much, but anything less would've been blowing it off. **

**Then, I wanted to do a segment in Hadassa's p.o.v. in this chapter but decided that would be _too_ much for this chapter after the back and forth of the previous two chapters. Besides that, I felt I needed to bring Edmund's siblings back into this story; I really feel uncomfortable leaving them out for long, which I've been doing. . . lol. **

**And the whole Edmund carrying Hadassa back to her bed thing just, sorta. . . happened. I was not planning that, and frankly, Edmund surprised my by pulling it. Just tell me as you faithfully do, what you think! :)**

 **By the way: Over 5,000 views!**

* * *

 **A Reader:**

 **I am on cloud nine after hearing that high praise from you! :) I believe you shall indeed find out what took place between Peter and drunk Edmund. Either in a one-shot or in flashbacks in this story, but I'm not entirely certain which yet. But I'm working on a one-shot titled for the moment " _Just Red Wine_ ". We'll see what comes if it, all right?**

* * *

 **WH**


	27. And Something Ends

"Milady, wake, for there are only a few short hours to prepare you for the day." Maria's kind voice woke Hadassa from her sleep. She sat up quickly; the last thing she remembered was Edmund, and falling asleep beside him. She was startled to notice she was in her own chambers. Her maid caught her confused look, and stopped busying herself with Hadassa's clothes to watch her friend and mistress.

Then she struck upon something which, though it was a displeasing idea, it was not unheard of and quite common among lesser noble women. It was certainly not beneath the Lady Heshlotte, Maria knew, from listening to her maid speak of the woman's ways to gain secrets and bring men under her influence.

"Thank you, Maria, for waking. . ." Maria held up her hand, and the expression upon her face stopped the young woman.

"What is it?" Hadassa asked, and Maria was certain of the fear in her eyes as the lady gathered the bedspread in her hands, trying to ward off her unease.

"I know I am your lady-in-waiting, and have no place to decide or offer my opinion on such things, so I will not. But do not think you cannot confide in me what it is you do in the night. I am quite the keeper of secrets, milady, and know when to speak them and when to hold back. I know what noble women do who are of a single nature. I know of many things, I warn you.

"I understand that you may use your. . . appearances to spend a night in some noble's bed to acquire state secrets and things some might deign treason while still others call them information. I know Lady Heshlotte does such, and while I find it rather low for a good woman such as yourself, I will not reveal what is not mine to speak of. If you need my aid in something, for such reasons, I will not hesitate to give it to you." She met Hadassa's eyes boldly.

Hadassa swallowed, shocked. He heart raced, and she wondered how much Maria suspected her of, and wondered if the lady-in-waiting believed she'd taken the part of a mistress. Did Maria think she was no better than a harlot? What could she say? How could she explain her strange situation? Maria had offered to be of aid. . . why?

"I am not what you must think me to be! I do not. . . offer myself in exchange for information; I am not so low a woman! Please, Maria, do not put me so far down in your esteem, I ask you," Hadassa implored, not wanting her friend to think such things of her before having the chance of explaining any of her complicated situation.

"Then what must you be, milady? I have wondered these past days why you seem so eager for me to depart in the evenings and then are so tired in the mornings. Of course it has not been so these past few days; I have not been blind to your actions, but have only at last struck upon the answer to them," Maria answered, her voice rather bland and empty of any kind sympathies.

"I. . ." Hadassa did not know what to say without bringing the King into their conversation, and she knew he would not wish her do such a thing. But wasn't she a mistress in every sense of the word? He could not possibly care for her besides as some welcome distraction, could he? She sighed, and her shoulders shook as she struggled to keep herself composed. "What you say is true, but I only go to one man alone. I– I think I may be falling in love with one who cannot return my affections," she whispered, resting her forehead on her drawn up knees, wishing this was not happening.

"I want to know the name of such a man incapable of returning your feelings. It is not Count Feren, is it? The noble you asked of just the evening before?" Maria was slightly worried that it might be, and the thought filled her with concern, for she knew from the servants and maids how careless and rough the man was when not in the public's eye. Hadassa was silent. Maria pursed her lips, and then used her final tactic for drawing information form Hadassa.

"If you do not tell me this man's name I shall inform Efrain of your impropriety. I am to be knowing of what you do so that, should a need arise, I can prevent someone from hearing of it," she declared firmly, staring at Hadassa until the young woman looked up at Maria.

"You swear you shall never let the man's name pass this room?" Hadassa asked, almost desperately.

"Certainly, I swear; whomever he may be," Maria answered.

"His name is Edmund, but he is called the Just King," Hadassa whispered softly, causing Maria to lean forward to catch her words. Her dark blue eyes met the maid's brown with fear. What had she done, telling her that? Could she be trusted? Hadassa wondered what would come next.

Maria pulled back, blinking sharply. She had thought some lord or count, perhaps, but not a king! And it was unfortunately not the High King, who could perhaps show some sort of kindness to her, but the Dark King; the Black King whom fools here in Narnia called Just. How had this come about? Had Hadassa allowed herself to become swept away by his looks? Surely he was not a caring man! "Why him? Why did you allow yourself to become entangled in his dark realm?" she demanded, coming and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I don't know, Maria. But, it was so strange. . . one moment we were at odds, and hate for me burned in his eyes, and then the next he acted as if he wished to embrace me. . . I don't know; I don't _know_!" She buried her face in the bedclothes, tears sliding down her cheeks as she shook her head in confusion.

Maria, at first with some hesitance and then gradually more firmer, placed her hand reassuringly on Hadassa's shoulder, moving it down her arm to gently grip her wrist in sympathy. "If ever there are times when you need someone to confide in, please, do not hesitate to talk with me," she murmured.

Hadassa looked up at her. "Oh, Maria, I have needed this; thank you." The two women sat together for some time before reluctantly moving to begin preparing Hadassa for the day.

 **~|\\\0/\0/|~**

Edmund stepped into his study momentarily to collect his riding gloves, but as he moved to his desk, he was halted by the woman standing slightly in the shadows.

 _Heshlotte_.

He had promised the snake he would agree to her demand to kill her brother. If only he might strangle her here to prevent such a decent man as Ninvialazar from injury or removal to another land for the safety of his life. A slow, cunning smile twisted her face, and Edmund curbed the urge to smack it off. She thought she was bringing him under her control, but she was far from it!

"So, you have agreed to the request I have made, Sire?" She spoke first, stepping closer. He regarded her with emotionless eyes, knowing now was the time in which he must be cunning– sly. Now was not a time to make mistakes, for a man's life hung in the balance.

"How can I trust you not to involve me should unforeseeable events foil a possible plot?" he asked softly, careful to keep his voice smooth and elegant. For some reason beyond him this appealed to many women, he had learnt.

"I would consider it a crime were it ever to be known a member of the Deglon family needed the aid of a Narnian!" she replied quickly, as if he had insulted her somehow.

"Very good, milady– At least it may be said of you that you are no fool." He gave slight praise, knowing it was instrumental in his plot to keep this viper content. She smiled, her eyes glinting with something which repelled him. What was their malady that people like they felt some sort of pleasure at the possible suffering and death of others whom they cared little for but should hold in high regard?

Clearing the thought from his mind, he nodded slightly. "I shall take up the demand, then. A tragedy shall occur upon the return to Telmar, and the Baron will be grievously killed in defense of his beloved sister. Give my regards to all of Deglon manor for your loss," he answered, as if showing sympathy or understanding some great pain.

"Thank you," Heshlotte murmured in response, curtsying while he bowed in answer. She quickly hurried from the room and he fetched his gloves off of his desk. A simple matter to agree, but now came the difficult part: getting the Baron to agree to his terms. Otherwise, he would be most certainly a dead man.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund was walking beside his stallion into the stables after his morning ride. He slowly turned Night in circles, cooling him off, before leading the stallion to his box stall, where there would surely be some grain and water for him. As he did, a woman emerged from a stairway and began hurrying towards the direction of the large stables. He did not think anything of it, and expected her to go past him to one of the stable boys hired to send messages on horseback. He clipped his horse to a lead and began unsaddling him and brushing him down.

"My lord king, a word please." He turned at the sound of the woman's voice. Upon seeing her, he noted she was the very same woman who had come from the castle moments before. She looked familiar, but he could not place her; the only thing he was certain of was that she was a Telmarine guest's servant.

"You may speak whenever you wish; however, I shall not stop my work," he informed her, continuing on with his task.

"I know that you are upon occasion to bring a certain woman to bed with you, and I know who this woman is," she began. Edmund straightened from picking Night's hooves to regard her with cold brown eyes.

"What do you think to get from such information? Because I shall certainly not pay you to be silent about it." He dug out the packed mud from Night's right forehoof carefully, bent once more to his self-made occupation.

"I do not want to be silenced with bribery; I care for such things not! I merely wish you know that I am aware of the situation, and if you harm my lady in any way, I shall not be slow in bringing harm to you. There are people in this grand place who are not so good as to be beyond murdering a king, if I may speak so boldly."

He regarded her, a turn of his mouth which could almost be called a smile edging its way over his face.

"You have already spoken and I cannot give you leave to say what may be bold and what may be not. I understand that to cause your lady harm would be thoughtless and only bring notice to myself and further injure my already uneven standing in the Telmarine courts. I shall bring no intended harm upon your lady," he finished, giving something of a mocking half-bow in the maid's direction.

The woman did not even flinch, and Edmund found some new admiration for this unknown-until-now woman. She was the sort of person he could find respect for easily, compared to Heshlotte who was not so noble nor so honest. "If you want me to do something before you would like to see the lady in question, do not be slow in informing me of your. . . wishes. I shall be quick in complying with them as best I might," she proposed.

"You are not unfamiliar with this way of life, are you?" he mused aloud, looking her over carefully. Whose daughter was she, and how did she know so much of palace and court? She could not be some simple lady-in-waiting.

"I have been subjected to it before, Sire; there are many things a woman of my station must be prepared to face," she answered curtly. "This, unfortunately, is often one of them."

Edmund allowed a smirk to cross his face. He tilted his head and glanced the length of her once more, wondering just who she was, before taking a curry over his horse's back. "Get out," he ordered in a low voice, with a slight nod of his head towards the large entrance.

She bobbed a curtsy and quickly turned on her heel. Edmund did not bother to watch her go.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So this is a slightly longer chapter, everyone! :) Herein it are several things that I have been rather slow of addressing until now: kept women, e.i. mistresses. Mainly because the romance had to build up some and get Hadassa backed against a wall - Edmund is a troubled man, if he sleeps late, it's good that he sleeps at all, everyone will think.**

 **But not so for Hadassa. She's a lady, albeitedly of low-ranking noble birth, who is expected to be up at the proper time, never miss the meals of the day or any social event unless for an easily provable reason, and can have ha** **rdly any unsupervised attentions from a man without her character becoming sullied or possibly ruined.**

 **I also wanted to present the atmosphere of Hadassa being a woman; as a woman, she needs someone to confide in. She simply can't carry all her burdens for long before she breaks down into a teary, messy figure. Just saying. At least, such is how I've rather seen it. If women don't do it that way, they just become annoying, rather peevish creatures not fit to be in good company.**

 **Edmund's male, which obviously means he cares a whole lot less about the situation. Actually, I should say that he doesn't care for it in the way that Hadassa worries over it. Men have mistresses, it's not uncommon- not even in Narnia, I'm certain. Edmund doesn't worry about how Hadassa's feeling [but we can only hope this will change with time] and he is amused with Maria's protection of her friend.**

 **Now on to Maria: I have wonted to get her into this, but she wouldn't come in until it was the right moment. Now, I believe, is the right moment. I just was enthralled with the idea of this maid standing up to Edmund for her lady, though she really has no idea of the situation, she is willing to help it in any way she can to prevent something happening which would ruin Hadassa.**

 **She's a pretty great companion and friend, dontcha think?**

* * *

 **A Reader: It might be awhile; I can't get on my computer as often as I'd like right now. But it's coming! :)**

* * *

 **WH**


	28. Is Your Mind

Hadassa came to a door, stopping briefly to knock upon it and wait for the rather muffled response from within which would grant her permission to enter the chambers. After a pause, with her ear pressed to the door, she heard a distant "come in" and lifted the latch, swinging the door inward. The room was surprisingly dark after the bright and cheery halls of Cair Paravel, and Hadassa quickly entered, concern creeping onto her features.

"Coronilla, what is wrong?" She had been told by the Countess that whenever they were alone they should cast all formalities aside, so once Hadassa scanned the room for the Count and noticed he was curiously absent, she addressed her guardian informally.

"I was feeling ill this morning, but urged Efrain to go on without me. I only sent for you because I need someone to talk with who is not a gossip, as Beraline is," Coronilla replied softly, her voice sounding faint. Hadassa sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, worried her movements might pain the Countess.

"She means well, but does not understand the need for silence, perhaps," Hadassa offered in support of Coronilla's personal maid. "Sometimes, when one is either ill or melancholy, silence is best," Hadassa murmured soothingly, running her hand up and down the Countess's arm comfortingly when the woman fumbled weakly to place her hand in the girl's.

"Forgive me for neglecting you these past weeks, Hadassa, but Efrain and I have been overly concerned for my health. I do not enjoy being so ill, and I do not like to become such a burden to either of you," she whispered.

"Oh, you mustn't think that, my lady; this journey was for you, not for us. Your health is needed more than any repose from Telmar. You must not fret, as you know it does nothing to aid your recovery. My lord Efrain comes here only because of you," Hadassa hurriedly whispered back, concern reflecting in her eyes for the older woman.

"Thank you, Hadassa. You must know Efrain is only sharp with you of late because of me," Coronilla informed the girl sympathetically, smiling a tired smile, her long, loose black braid shot through with thin silver strands slipping somewhat over her shoulder. Hadassa returned the smile with one of her own, though inwardly she worried for her Guardian. She had seemed better not many days before, why now was she suffering so cruelly?

Hadassa loathed thinking that this sudden relapse of illness was because she had been lax in attending to Coronilla of late, but this could very well be the gods' punishment on her for betraying her country with the Narnian king. "Just rest, my lady, and try to find peace," she soothed, stroking Coronilla's arm clad in a dusty rose-pink silk sleeve.

As the woman inhaled slowly, nodding and closing her eyes, Hadassa looked away, wary lest the woman see the guilt in her eyes.

 **~|\\\0/\0/|~**

Emrys padded softly down the hall, intent upon her business. She growled warningly when a Hound skittered past. The Tigress was angry, but years of masking her displeasure and contempt had left her appearing seemingly normal. Edmund had not spoken with her in some time. Three days since they'd had a descent conversation, to be precise. She knew with enmity that it had something to do with That Woman. Emrys was not ashamed to admit she was jealous of the Telmarine girl; stealing all the Just King's attention when he should be focused on the uprising which had so recently happened.

 _"Where is his mind? He is playing with ruin and war as if it were a puppy. It shall become a dog more rapidly than he thinks, and lash out if he is not cautious,"_ she growled to herself, flattening her ears against her skull and spitting viciously when yet another stupid Hound ran past her, chasing his companion with excited barks.

The Tigress's anger stemmed from her accidental brush with Edmund perhaps an hour or two before, as he had been coming down a stairway, riding gloves in hand and a contemplative look upon his pale face. He reeked of That Woman and he seemed absorbed in something he was contemplating without anyone else's council on the matter.

She seethed, wondering if he was ever going to include her in the details of the plot for the Baron; had he become so wrapped up in personal matters that he forgot she had been privy to the plot? She snarled just because she wished to release the rage building up. She stopped in the middle of the hall, a thought coming to her. With a quick turn, she headed down a new corridor. She would find Edmund and make him converse with her. Or he would not live to see the next sunrise. Either way, really, she wasn't at all particular.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund was exiting the stables via a back entrance when he heard a low and excruciatingly threatening growl come from the shadows on the landing seven steps above him. He stopped. "Emrys, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice nonthreatening while at the same leaving no room for opposition.

"You, _Sire_ , are in the midst of a plot. You have told me that when one is in the midst of plotting one cannot become… _distracted!_ " She spat in answer, stepping down until he could just see some glimpse of her outline and her glowing eyes in the dusky light of the stairwell.

Edmund scowled darkly, looking away. "I am _not_ becoming distracted, Emrys. Do not think such things of me, it is not… wise."

"Then what do you call the nights? And the days during which you no longer inform me of nearly your every plan? I have sworn fealty to you, my lord, not your brother, not your sisters. Without you I am adrift. Without you I am no better than the Tigress you saved from death so many years ago." Emrys hissed, the growl low in her throat.

Edmund turned to look at her, staring until he found her eyes in the shadows. Guilt overtook him at her words, and, though he regretted admitting it, she was right. He had not been informing her of his thoughts or his decisions of late, and it was going to come to light soon unless he mended his ways. He could not slip-up over some foolish affair with a deceased, lesser-noble's daughter.

"Emrys, I have agreed to carry out the plot we discussed; whether or not the Baron agrees. If he does, then we shall find some land where he can resign and live out his days. If he should refuse, then he shall die as he makes his way back to Telmar." This was Edmund's way of offering apology, and Emrys approved of it better than asking forgiveness. "And before you say, Heshlotte has very nearly sworn she would not let my name become involved should this turn public. She was adamantly against the assumption, even."

"I shall make preparations for the end of the season, then, but until that time, you must be careful with… _her_. Heshlotte may not wish to involve you in the plot against her brother, but that will not stop the viper from finding some way to get you into her clutches permanently. I beg of you, do not come thus far only to discover you wish to lead with your heart instead of your head," Emrys warned, the only Narnian, perhaps, who could speak to him in such a way beside his siblings, of course.

"Do not mark me for a fool as yet, Emrys. That would be… ill-thought for even you," Edmund returned sharply.

The Tigress growled low, before turning with a flick of her black-tipped tail up the stairway, leaving him quickly in the dark. He tilted his head to stare down at the stone steps. "I am not capable of such as you label me, Emrys. I am incapable of love." He raised his head, clearing his thoughts and resuming his climb up the stairs.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **OH MY GOSH. Ya'll, I am SO SORRY that I haven't been updating chapters, but I haven't had any time to write this week or last. Which is the reason for the shortness of this chapter! I feel so horrid, I honestly do. Forgive me, I beg! (see, Edmund, everyone does it.) I hope to make the next chapter MUCH longer, btw.**

 **I love everyone's reviews, and thanks a billion for all the follows and favorites; ya'll, it's really wonderful to see! Anyway, this A/N is short because I've gotta jet, so anything I left unexplained, please tell me and I'll answer it in the next A/N or a PM for those of you with accounts.**

 **WH**


	29. I Care For You

Edmund walked down the vaulted hall, thinking about when to engage the Baron in his plans for his "assassination," whether they be genuine or playacted for the sake of his serpentine sister, who wanted nothing better than to see the Telmarine noble dead. Edmund absently deposited his riding gloves on a small marble stand for a large fern; he was so deep in the recesses of his mind he really didn't notice. He stood there; hand on his hip, peering hard at the carpeted marble floors as if they would give him the answers he sought.

"Oh, Eddie, there you are!" Lucy's bright voice came into his thoughts as sunshine through clouds, and he looked up, for a moment a befuddled expression on his face before he covered it with a smile.

"Ah, sister, what is it? I don't recall any promises I've made to you," his dark eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated his past actions. "I haven't forgotten anything, surely?" he asked, looking at her with what might be called anxiety, considering his character.

"By the Mane, goodness no! No, no, not at all; I merely wanted you to take luncheon with me!" she answered, laughing lightly and slipping one arm through his while placing her right hand on his forearm.

"Nothing particular; no . . . special reasons?" he inquired carefully, his dark eyes glinting with more than a hint of suspicion. She grinned back at him amiably and innocently enough.

"We haven't done much together of late, besides, well, you know, and I thought something so dull as luncheon couldn't be too difficult for you to undertake; there won't be anyone else, so you can criticize everyone and anyone you wish with me, I won't judge!" she declared gaily, her head tilting back as she laughed, brown-blonde waves of her hair rippling in the afternoon light pouring in from the large windows. He smiled.

"I let you lead the way, then," he answered, motioning with his free hand toward the hall around them. Lucy laughed a clear, bright laugh, and began walking back the way she had come towards an open door from which the soft golden light of the sun poured through.

It was a large conservatory, filled with lovely exotic plants. Many had come from Calormen and the Lone Islands, and Lucy always readily accepted them at dignitary and ambassador arrivals. Edmund brushed his fingers against several trailing blooms and budding green vines growing from hanging pots or out of large vases. His dark cape caught against a few lower-drifting vines, and Lucy paused as he made certain he didn't damage any of the plants.

His sister brought him to a table and sat herself in one chair while he placed himself in the other, calmly admiring the food spread before them. Lucy never over-did it as Susan did, nor did she under-do it as Peter was wont to do. She always managed to know when he wasn't very hungry compared to when he was. He supposed it was because they were the younger set and closer in age, but was never really certain.

"So, Tristan has begun her honey mead for the summer, and she offered to give me some for my luncheon, so I accepted. I know you don't often touch the stuff, but, this once," Lucy remarked casually, gesturing slightly to their crystal goblets.

"Well, because Tristan has made up the concoction, I shall acquiesce; but otherwise I would refuse. Her's is the only honey mead I can abide," Edmund answered, rolling his eyes and smiling slightly at his sister as he glanced up at the goblet in front of his plate. He did not notice the pensive yet giddy look on his sister's face as he drank; when he had lowered the glass, it had vanished, replaced by a calm, cheery composure.

"So, where did you wander on your ride?" she asked, reaching for her fork.

"Here and there," Edmund answered dismissively, shrugging and for the first time in quite a while feeling . . . embarrassed to be keeping things from his sister. He shook his head sharply, fighting off the strange feelings assailing him.

"Eddie, are you all right?" Lucy looked at him with concern.

"Yes, fine, sister, completely fine. I just . . . felt strange for a moment," he answered absently, turning in his seat and staring without really seeing at the floor as he struggled to regroup his thoughts. He looked up again. "How have things been with you so far?" he asked, surprising himself by genuinely wanting to know how Lucy was feeling about their visitors.

"Well . . . I think Duke Frevalla is a charming man– pity he's so old, as I'm certain he'd be on our side in Telmar. But . . . Eddie, I simply must tell someone or I shall burst!" Lucy looked around the room before leaning forward somewhat conspiratorially.

"What?" Edmund couldn't help grinning at her attitude, which was making him feel strange, like when they had been teenagers, only interested in the next most fabulous prank.

Lucy grinned back momentarily, before her expression tightened, and she grew serious again. "I think Feren likes the Telmarine girl, but I don't like Feren. The only problem is, I can't seem to figure out a reasonable excuse to get him to leave, besides saying 'get out, we're sick of you.' I don't think that would be very proper, do you?" Lucy frowned, as if she was tempted to speak her mind to the Count, but knew Susan and Peter would object.

Edmund stiffened, for some reason feeling an overwhelming urge to go throw Feren off the nearest balcony. He quickly curbed the urge – he was not seventeen anymore, and rash decisions would not help him – and thought about a suitable answer to the problem. Absently, he spoke, fiddling with the napkin at his place setting. "We could always poison him." He shrugged offhandedly, just really throwing the idea out.

Then he jumped a bit, leaning forward over the table to Lucy, smiling the dashing 'we're going to do the most brilliant prank' smile she remembered so fondly of days past. "I always feel so bad for those nobles who must depart so soon because of problems back home that can't resolve themselves. Like the time Corin and Cor fell into the lake and Lord Dar was told by Lune that surely there would be bloodshed unless matters of who pushed who were settled. But, um, do you think a civil war would be _too_ much?" he asked, startling himself by genuinely feeling anxious with the plan unless it had Lucy's full approval.

"A bit too much, yes," Lucy allowed, though she had been nodding in agreement to everything he said, and grinned brightly at the idea he outlined when she realized what he was thinking of.

"Do you have something better?" he queried, leaving her room to offer suggestions like he had not done in ages, it seemed to Lucy. She couldn't help smiling to herself. Pity this would only last for a few days. "Why are you smiling– I didn't say something stupid, did I?" he was frowning at her, confused.

"Um, no, you didn't. I was just remembering the best prank we ever laid, and how fabulously it worked, though it took the attack at Anvard to make Susan realize Nitwit was too foolish and vain for her," Lucy answered, quickly covering herself.

"That . . . was _glorious_ ," Edmund agreed, leaning back in his seat and gazing off with a fond expression on his face. Honestly, that was the best prank they had done. Nothing, _nothing_ , would ever top it, he was certain. But still, couldn't hurt to try again.

"So . . . though civil war is too strong, I think something like a death or a murder would be enough to bring him back, especially if it was on his own estate, you know," Lucy declared.

"That's not bad, Lu. I'd forgotten how much fun this is!" Edmund flashed a thrilled smile. "And Cor and Aravis are still here, though they leave tomorrow. I could have them help; Cor was telling me after dinner the other night how much he disliked Feren for trying to interest Lune in trade with the Telmarines." He clapped his hands together, giving a contented sigh. It was such fun to unwind and relax and act like it was the old days again, he decided. He should really do it more often.

Splendid! I could not think of a better plan! You'll unwrinkled the details and tell me when to help, won't you?" Lucy asked anxiously.

"Certainly, Lu; Feren should be gone by the coming weekend. Now, might we eat?" Edmund looked at her hopefully. "I _am_ feeling rather hungry now."

"Of course!" Lucy laughed, reaching for her fork. Why hadn't she done this earlier?

 **A/N:**

 **Hmm, I wonder what's up; what has darling Lucy done now? More in the next chapter, including an explanatory A/N! *sheepish expression* Sadly, I wonder if Feren will go away that easily . . .**

 **WH**


	30. This Is How I Love Thee

Edmund stood in his brother's study, waiting for Peter to show. He had come to talk about the rebellion in his part of the kingdom or . . . something . . . admitting to himself that he should confess to Peter much more than he had. But, in waiting for his brother, he began fiddling with things upon the desk, and had somehow managed to take a quill and a piece of parchment into his hands. Now, walking about the room, occasionally stopping, he was writing. When Peter entered his study, he was instantly aware of Edmund leaning his tall frame against the bookcases, head bent as he wrote something out quickly on the paper before him.

"Edmund, what. . . Whatever are you doing?" he asked hesitantly, cocking his head off to one side, a curious light in his clear eyes. The dark-haired young man jumped, turning part ways, his dark cloak rippling with his movements. He quickly returned the black quill to his brother's desk, the parchment forgotten on the shelf.

"Ah, brother, I . . ." He frowned, running his fingers through his long curls. "I, well. . . You see. . . I have no reason for being here, forgive me for disturbing you." He finally found his tongue again, looking at his brother with something of confusion and puzzlement upon his face. Peter was amused, but tried not to show it. Edmund nodded hurriedly and left the room at a rapid pace, more nervous than Peter had ever seen him. The High King laughed aloud after his brother had fled, moving over to the shelf and the forgotten scribbling's of the Just King. What had Edmund been writing?

 _Remember me when summer roses die,_

 _and spring blooms fade into dust._

 _I give you my heart, always,_

 _to hold in everlasting trust._

The three lines of verse were written out beneath many a scratched-out word or stanza which Edmund had clearly disliked. It felt an age since Edmund had written in verse! Why now? And why so confoundingly unclear? Did this bit of poetry mean anything or was his brother regaining the love of writing in confounding riddles?

He looked at the roughly scratched out words, able to read his brother's writing even with the lines across it from years of practice.

 _My love is eternal, it will never cease to burn,_

 _And it shall remain as just, until the world forgets to turn._

"Fascinating," he murmured dryly to himself, entirely befuddled. The door suddenly banged open, and Edmund reentered, looking, for the first time in maybe seven years, rather sheepish.

"Peter, I, I forgot. . . I have _told_ you, don't read it until I finish!" he reprimanded, coming forward and taking the paper quickly, dark eyes regarding his brother carefully. Peter smiled slightly.

"It _was_ in _my_ study; don't I have permission to read whatever was written in this room?" Peter wondered, crossing his arms in amusement.

"That remains to be seen. I haven't written in verse for so long, isn't this bit somewhat poor?" Edmund queried, scanning the scrap of parchment with a critical eye.

"No; actually, I was curious, who's it for?" Peter asked suggestively.

"No one, I just seemed unable to cast the words from my mind; I had to write them down to find some manner of peace," Edmund answered, appearing somewhat surprised by his brother's question, but Peter knew him to be a clever actor; he could be lying.

"Get out! Go write your verse in the gardens, like all poets are said to do!" Peter laughingly declared, pointing towards the door; shaking his head as his brother left the room yet again, he went to his desk and began his work.

 **~\\\0/\/\0/~**

Hadassa was told to leave Coronilla's rooms when Efrain returned, coming to his wife's bedside with concern flashing in his sharp dark eyes. So now she was wondering what to do with herself. She gazed out a window to the grounds of Cair Paravel. As she passed an open door leading out into a garden path covered over with blooming wisteria, she thought she heard a voice. She glanced around her, and seeing no one in sight, she stepped out the door and down the path.

She came after a long walk to a splitting of the path, but, as she debated which to follow, the voice came from a section of two tall hedges, and someone walked past the gap, talking to themself. She carefully came closer, wondering who it was.

" _Forget me not, as summer roses die,  
And blooms don't last through spring."_

She marveled at the elegance of the poetry, and the smooth flow of cadence, and unknowingly edged closer to the gap in the hedge until she was standing just inside it. Wisteria towered above, the sunlight filtering through the flowers, shining on the ground and making the space a warm pinkish color. New green grass grew underfoot, and a stone bench, complete with those curious pillows Queen Lucy had laughingly told her she had made, until she realized everyone hated them, strewn over several blankets draped on the bench.

" _Painful words cause hearts to sigh,  
But still eternal love can bring,"_

She dared lean through the hedge to see who spoke such lovely words. She blinked, taken aback, to watch the Just King pace, lost in thought with parchment and pen; he wrote after he spoke, then placed the quill back on the stone bench and resumed his walking about the secluded, beautiful space. His voice sounded so different when he talked like this. She was unaware she inhaled quickly when he paused, until he looked up, dark hair curling around his face, brown eyes sparkling with enjoyment only writer's found in their art.

Instead of growing solemn and looked annoyed at her presence, he walked up to her, something between a smile and a look of amusement plain upon his face.

" _A Summer's kiss,  
A parting wish_," He whispered the words, standing close to her, a light in his eyes she had never seen before.

" _That though away from me you must go,  
You will recall, ah, how I love you so."_ He lifted his hand, brushing gentle fingers down her cheek, pushing stray strands of her hair behind her ear. Her breath caught, and she wondered why he was acting in this way. He tilted his head until their foreheads just touched, his eyes closing as he whispered more stanzas.

" _Autumn leaves fall in a gentle breeze,  
And meet the ground to sleep  
Beneath a cool bed of glittering ice,  
For the Winter to hold in her eternal keep."_

She marveled at how long his lashes seemed, and how dark they were in contrast with his pale skin, the softly murmured words of his poem making a strange, overwhelmingly contented feeling fill her. And then his eyes met hers, and pleasant tingles crept down her spine with his attentions.

" _Remember me when roses die  
And spring blooms fade to dust.  
May such feelings as we felt,  
Be kept in your everlasting trust."_

"It is beautiful," she murmured, understanding that this was as far as he had come with the verse.

"They are mere words when compared to the woman standing before me," he whispered back, his touch making her tremble. Her eyes widened slightly, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, longing horribly for him to hold her.

 **~|:O:|~**

He didn't know what overtook him when she entered the area he had been reciting and thinking in. Perhaps it was the poetry he was writing blended pleasingly with the beauty around him; perhaps it was something more than that. What he _did_ know was that he was highly pleased to see her face as he spoke, and that he enjoyed greatly watching a colorful blush come to her cheeks, and her unconscious reaction to his words. He couldn't help himself when he came closer, he had to touch her.

But when she threw her arms around him, he kept nothing back. He kissed her deeply, his fingers weaving through her upswept hair, pushing pins out of their places and to the ground. His other hand slipped up her arm, until he found her fingers and laced his through hers. In this place it was as if nothing mattered or was far, far away. The fingers of her free hand combed with a sharp tingle through his hair, and he adored it, tilting his head slightly towards her. But, finally he forced himself to pull back, knowing the risk of being caught unawares here was great.

"The poetry is yours, if you wish," he whispered, watching her.

"What?" she looked up at him in surprise, her fingers moving up his shoulder, until she could just touch the ends of his hair with her fingertips. "But . . . why would you write such things for me? I'm Telmarine, and nearly a commoner," she declared, acting slightly shy at being offered what he'd written.

"I wrote it for you, but until I can assume a reason, I won't tell anyone," he reassured her, smiling slightly, feeling strangely affectionate.

"It was a beautiful poem, and I accept; no one has ever done something like that for me before," she admitted, shaking her head slightly, looking down.

"Well, now I have; I'm glad you are pleased," he answered, pulling her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he began to wonder for a moment what his siblings would think of Hadassa.

 **~\\\0/\/\0/~**

Peter gazed absently into the flames crackling in the hearth. Susan sat to his right, stitching some sampler or embroidering, he could never really tell and never really cared to know, actually. And he wasn't interested in learning now. Edmund had just left them, declaring his intentions of retiring early, for some reason or another, but only after mentioning what a marvelous day it had been and how wonderfully he thought the Telmarines seemed to be accommodating to Cair Paravel. Peter would have thought nothing of the words, but he _was_ thinking something of them because they came from Edmund, who was never one for such words; at least, not anymore.

"Su, Ed . . . oh, never mind," he began, and then drifted off, trying to come to reasonable conclusions to the situation which did not include Edmund being enchanted by the White Stag.

But Susan was alerted to something amiss, so she regarded her oldest brother for several moments, before finally laying down her sampler – she was not embroidering – and speaking her mind. "Brother, you are troubled, I can read you face plainly, and have been able to since first we became rulers of Narnia. And before you reprimand me, I can tell by the look in your eyes and the rigidness of your back that you are puzzling some complex problem." Susan lifted a dark eyebrow, daring him silently to deny her words.

"I am," Peter admitted, moving forward in the armchair, sitting on the edge of the seat and leaning towards her. "I can't seem to understand why –" he was cut off by Lucy's entrance into the room and her sparkling laughter as she threw herself gaily onto the lounge with a contented but tired sigh.

"Wasn't today just marvelous? Oh, if only Eddie was this happy all the time, then it would be like the old days. . ." she mused, looking over at them before staring dreamily into the hearth, merriment dancing in her bright eyes as they reflected the firelight.

Peter shared a glance with Susan, surprised that Lucy was so happy about Edmund's attitude and not puzzled in the least by how out of character such kindness and joviality was for him now. Susan's glance told him she had been startled with Edmund's attitude as he was, and was wondering what was going on. So, he cleared his throat and addressed his youngest sibling.

"Lucy, aren't you the least bit concerned about Edmund?"

"Why ever should I be? Don't you like him being back to the old Eddie, out of that dismal slump he's been in? I think I'd rather see my brother happy and content than always dark and somber." She didn't look at them, and was instead playing with the lace on her dress.

"Lucy, what have you done to Edmund?" Susan's tone warned that she was not in the mood for excuses or balks, and she stared unwaveringly at her little sister.

Lucy suddenly looked cross, and turned her head away from them. "Oh, it's not like he's going to die! It will wear off eventually, in about three or four days. Just don't get in a row about it!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms and giving an exasperated huff.

"What did you give him?" Peter jumped to his feet, feeling slightly bewildered and taken aback by Lucy's actions.

"Just some potion or something from Greysong; she swore it wouldn't hurt him, just make him feel like his old self for a short time. And I do so miss the old Edmund, Peter!" Her voice trembled, and a few tears fell down her cheeks. He felt sorry for her now, and guiltily admitted that he probably would have done something similar if the idea had come to him.

"Well, I think it's worked very nicely, Lu. You know, he was in my study this morning, writing poetry," Peter informed her, grinning slightly, brushing a tear off her chin.

"Really, poetry? My, after so long, I shan't mind dealing with his verse," Susan declared, a soft smile coming to her face.

"I just want him to be happy after . . . after what happened in the west. I kept seeing his face in my sleep; such an utter look of defeat, and it ached to think of," Lucy whispered confidingly, looking up into her brother's blue eyes.

"Though the means to the end isn't very proper, I can't say I wouldn't do it, nor can I find fault in your actions," Peter finally declared, once a long pause had fallen on the conversation.

"Let's not tell him, all right? He'd never trust us again after that, and I don't think I could stand to see any more distrustful looks from his direction," Susan admitted thoughtfully. "He already gazes at us doubtfully, and I don't know why," she finished, turning to stare into the hearth.

"Well . . . what's done is done, no use continuing to muddy the waters." Peter decided, standing with a tired sigh. "I think I'll be going through now, sisters. I must discuss some things with Oreius, and then talk over something with Edmund . . . Oh, I know what we've just been talking of, Su, but this can't wait. And I think he's finally in a well enough mood for me to talk about it," Peter informed his elder sister when she leveled him with a frustrated stare.

"Good night, Peter," Lucy called, watching him go with bright eyes.

"Yes, good night," Susan echoed, though she continued to stare off into the flames, reminding Peter of Edmund a few nights ago, and how similar he and Susan could be at times.

"Aslan keep you both until the morning," he murmured in response, leaving the room.

 **A/N:**

 **All right, everyone forgive me for taking so long to update, I beg of you! But things are going crazy here at home, and the internet schedule is changing. Because of rather private matters, I will now only be updating on Tuesdays (perhaps the weekends too, if everything goes according to plan), and I will only be able to answer reviews and/or PMs then also. Once I know more, I'll get a proper schedule down and tell everyone. Now, however, on to the chapter! :)**

 **I had quite the time writing this, I must say. First of all, it's been Valentine's Day a few days past, and I wanted to write a One-shot for such a "sweet" day, but things didn't pan out. Then I realized that this chapter was sort of a Valentine-y chapter, what with the poetry and all. So, Dear and Darling Readers, this chapter is for Valentine's Day. (We'll simply overlook the fact that it would have rolled out regardless of a holiday, but nevertheless . . .)**

 **The poetry belongs to me – I wrote it a while ago, poor as it is – and it was actually not Edmund who initially "wrote" it, but Peter for his wife in my Star Cycle. The title of my poem is "** ** _Forget Me Not_** **" and is actually about two lovers who have been separated by time and unforeseeable circumstances; one has died, but the other will never forget their love because it was precious, and the dearest thing on earth. All things will pass, but their love was and is eternal, and will remain as such until the world is no more.**

 **The title of this chapter is not just for Hadassa and Edmund, but actually for Lucy as well.** ** _"This Is How I Love Thee"_** **is also for her love of Edmund as a sibling, not just romance in general. I know it seems a strange way to show love, but Lucy giving him that potion or enchantment (whatever you wish, however you wish) was because she loved him and wanted him to be happy after so many years of seeming pain and burdens.**

 **Many thanks for all the reviews and readers, favorites and followers! It means a lot, and if I could, I would personally go and PM all of ya'll to thank you! :) Forgive me for being unable to give you this story as you should be given it, but Life does so love to be difficult, doesn't she? Ah, well, perhaps something better shall come this summer!**

 **Happy reading,**

 **WH**


	31. One Man's Dream

He sat thoughtfully, going over several papers on the desk in his bedchamber. He leaned back, resting his chin on his fist as he contemplated allowing the Fauns to farm a plot of acreage in Lantern Waste or give the much-disputed-over land to the Centaurs for grazing and training their young on. It was a flat, even plain, and he knew a great deal was relying upon his judgment in the matter. After a time, he stood, going over to his shelves, where he removed a rolled parchment with a large map drawn across it of the Waste.

Dropping it on his desk, he returned to the bookcases, reaching for three different slim black books in a series of twenty-nine identical others. Flipping through the pages, he came to the page he wanted, which held a recording of his first exploration of Lantern Waste with Peter and Tumnus, while the two others held accounts of the complications or matters relating to the Waste. Musing over them, he did not hear the nock on his door, or Peter entering after waiting for several minutes. Closing the book he held in his hands with a loud clap, he turned to reach for another one still on the shelf.

"Still trying to solve the problem?" Peter tilted his head slightly to one side, watching his brother with an amused light in his eyes. Edmund jumped, startled out of his thoughts by Peter's voice.

"Uh, yes, I am," he replied, nodding slightly, running a hand across his face, looking down absently at the papers and books beginning to clutter his desk. "I cannot reach a peaceable endpoint just yet. From what I've kept here, the Centaurs have held it in their possession for a number of years. I just can't understand why the Fauns are only now interested in obtaining it," he admitted, giving a sigh of exhaustion.

"I came to talk to you in regards to something, would you rather listen to it another time?" Peter asked, a hint of chagrin coming to his face for interrupting his brother's tedious work.

"No, no, put the question to me, it's not as if I was going to stay up the night long working through this." Edmund motioned for him to speak, though he did not look up from the desk, only leaning over it to push a paper away or a chart closer.

"I was talking with a few of the Narnians, and not long past with Lune. They have made me realize that Narnia, though there are four of us, needs to have an heir, or, heirs," Peter began rather uncomfortably, slowly reaching up to rub the back of his neck in discomfort.

Edmund's head jerked up, his dark eyes staring at Peter intently. "I don't think I quite understand what you're talking to me in regards of. We aren't like other countries; we can either marry the woman – man in the girls' case – or chose someone we deem worthy to be the heir – or heirs, as you said – to the throne. You know I dislike when you become so held-back like this." Edmund dipped his head, looking at his brother pointedly.

"I-I know, but I am being made to feel that I should marry and give Narnia an heir. I feel that it would be for the good of the country. Besides, marriage would improve things with other lands, don't you agree? Considering that you do work some of the time with Susan in regards to diplomacy." He grinned.

"Yes, considering," Edmund slowly began to smile in return, sinking unto his chair easily, leaning back and regarding his brother with a friendly look that Peter had rarely seen of late. "And what," he paused, fiddling with a letter opener upon his desk that looked more like a dagger, "Do you wish for me to do about your non-marital status?"

Peter watched him, for the first time seeing Edmund as who he was: a rather dangerous mercenary trying to hide behind the façade of disinterested man, an active judge, and an equitable king. He knew in that moment that, like people seeking a mercenary to do a task they could not hope or want to accomplish, he and Lucy and Susan came to Edmund to solve or work out their problems. Edmund really should start charging them for his time and skills.

"I would like you to help me decide what to do," he admitted, fiddling with the edge of his cape before dropping it and looking at his brother fully.

"Peter, who am I to give advice on such matters? I cannot," Edmund declared, the mirth slightly leaving his face and a slightly sarcastic, regretful look replacing it.

"But you always give me advice, and now I need it greatly. And you _can_ aid me; who better?" he stressed, moving a step closer to the desk.

"Brother, you think you know me, but you do not know me as well as you have hoped. Do not ask questions regarding marriage of a man who takes mistresses instead of a wife," he informed him, shaking his head slightly at Peter, not at his choices in companionship. "I know nothing of marriage, and do not think I want to relish the idea of an eternity with one woman," he lifted an eyebrow suggestively, smiling to himself.

Peter felt defeated. Edmund would not give his help, he realized. Talking of something less than virtuous or something of another subject entirely was his way of saying _"I shan't help you, so stop trying."_ He would have to search out someone else to discuss this topic with. Pity that, even in this generous mood, Edmund still wouldn't offer his advice; but then, he amended, sometimes it was better if people were hesitant to involve themselves in another's private life instead of being eager to intrude.

"You know I wish you'd help me," he paused ruefully, lightly running his hand over his blonde hair, "and I know that it would be impossible to force you," here Edmund smiled as if Peter were smarter than he'd taken him to be, "and I know that I can't help you with your problem – if it were some sort of war or battle, that would be my area – but it isn't, so I shall regrettably take my leave." Peter turned to go, head slightly bowed as he pondered what his next step should be.

"You know," when he turned around, Edmund had stood and returned to gazing over his bookshelves, "I am ever so glad you did not insist, as Susan would have." He turned, smiled at his brother, and went back to the task at hand.

"I suppose that can be seen as _something_ ," Peter muttered, exiting the room.

Stopping after his brother closed the door behind him, Edmund gazed at it, as if listening for something. Content in hearing nothing, he walked to his door and bolted it as he had done since the night he'd been nearly killed and turned back toward the tapestry depicting a hunting scene with one of the earlier kings of Narnia upon it. He stared at it for a moment, but shook his head and slowly made his way to the balcony, tired of pouring over papers and disputes.

Leaning his hands against the balustrade, he closed his eyes, letting the rugged ocean wind rush around him. His mind drifted back to Peter's question, and he smiled to himself. One man's dream was not another's, he decided, lifting his head to stare out over the darkened waves. But then, no one had thought of the Just King to care for love.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, do please forgive me for the late, late, late, (not to mention short) update! And Fiordineve, please forgive me for not answering your last two reviews! I only have so much time to be on the internet before I can't, which gives me only so much time to look at your review and go back to Microsoft word to write up the reply!**

 **Everyone give a round of applause to WriterfromWarDrobe, who was my very first** _ **100th**_ **reviewer** **! And to Fiordineve for being my** _ **102nd**_ **reviewer!** **I am 'pleased as punch', as my great-grandmother would say, and can't stop the silly grins.**

 **The title of this chapter came from listening to Yanni's '** _ **One Man's Dream'**_ **while writing this, but also from the fact that Peter and Edmund are opposites, and one's ideals (dreams, if you will) are vastly different from the other's. Peter is thinking of marrying for Narnia, to give the country an heir. Edmund is now discovering that when he marries -if he marries- he wants to marry for love. But no one tell him that yet, he hasn't come to that conclusion! ;)**

 **Again, I will endeavor to reply in the next few days to everyone's reviews! But, until then, happy reading to all, and to all a good night!**

 **WH**


	32. Bittersweet Immortal Memory

Hadassa sat at her dressing table that evening. It had been two days since Edmund had spoken to her, and she wondered agonizingly if he would cast her aside for now, whatever he had said, since he seemed so happy. She absently fiddled with the end of her braid as Maria put her dress which she had worn that evening back in the wardrobe along with her other garments.

"Milady, would you mind putting this on?"

Hadassa turned around and her eyes widened at what she saw.

It was simply the most beautiful gown she had ever seen. It was a deep indigo blue, with silver lace around the neck and lining the wide bell sleeves. The full skirt rippled in Maria's hands, and Hadassa knew before even touching it that the material it was made from was wonderfully soft.

"Oh, Maria!" she cried quietly, gazing at the dress with amazement. Looking from it to her maid, she suddenly asked, "But where did you get this? It's a Narnian dress. Efrain would not let me wear such a thing, no matter how beautiful!"

"I was given it by a woman dressed in a simple gown with a hood covering her face, though when next I looked there was only a sable wolf in the corridor. She told me to tell you that it is from the king, and that you are to wear it," Maria answered, unable to help the blush which came to her cheeks. A similar flush also came to Hadassa's when her eyes met the maid's."I'm to see if it fits properly and then style your hair accordingly," she finished.

Hadassa stood and moved forward, reaching out to brush her fingers over the material of the Narnian gown. "Help me into it?" she requested.

"Certainly, Milady." Maria began helping her out of her nightgown and into a chemise which would fit under the dress.

After they finished, Hadassa stood before the full length mirror on the far side of her room, admiring the gown while Maria unbraided her hair and brushed it out. Absently, she ran her hand down the front bodice panel, admiring the soft fabric and how comfortable it was. She had never worn anything like it before; how it made her wish she didn't have to go back to her hideous Telmarine fashions!

"There, done," Maria declared, stepping back to admire the dress. Hadassa turned quickly, the skirt flaring out around her slightly. She smiled at her maid. "It is such a lovely dress. I am going to thank him," she decided after a moment's pause.

"Milady, should you?" Maria reached out and caught her lady's arm, eyes beseeching her to be careful.

"Maria, I might not understand much about Narnian rules, or what Narnian men do with their mistresses, but I will not be treated as if I have no feelings. I don't care if he is incapable of romance or love. I am capable, and I shall imagine whatever I please as long as I can have his attention. Then I will remember that whenever another man tries to claim love of me."

"I just . . . I do not want my lord Efrain to discover this," Maria whispered softly. "You know what he will do."

"Yes," Hadassa answered, turning her head away. "But I do not wish to think of that tonight. If you must, wait for me, but I think I shall get on fine without you," she finally decided, smiling and moving to leave through the secret passage.

"I will wait for you, Milady, as long as I must. I have to hide the dress so that the Countess' maid does not find it when she comes in here searching for things," Maria admitted.

"Thank you, Maria, for keeping my secret," Hadassa replied kindly, coming forward and grasping the maid's hands.

"Of course, Milady; no hurry!" She smiled and ushered her lady on her way.

 **~}0|o|0{~**

Edmund uttered a low sound of frustration as he entered his chambers and tossed down several scrolls to the floor, turning and locking his door rather forcefully. Encountering a passage in Narnian law against what he had said in court that evening, coupled by another discussion with Peter about heirs for the throne had made him annoyed, though he wasn't as angry as he often got.

When he turned around, snatching a book off a small table nearby, he noticed her. Or, more correctly, he noticed the dress. He could not help the pleased smile that came to his face. A rather hesitant smile came to hers, and he noticed, bemusedly, that the color of the dress brought out her beautiful eyes.

"I came to thank you," she murmured, almost bashfully, looking down though she still smiled. "It's such a lovely gown. . ." she added, her voice even lower if that were possible, though he rather enjoyed the sound.

He discarded the book with hardly a second thought and came over to her. "It brings out the color of your eyes," he replied, slowly putting his arm around her waist and bringing her to him. "They bewitch me," he whispered enticingly, leaning closer, using his other hand to play with strands of her long hair. A light blush came over her cheeks, but she only lifted her hands to put them around his neck, her fingers running through his own hair pleasurably. He inclined his head more, closing his eyes, a sigh giving away his absolute enjoyment.

After a moment, however, he straightened slightly. "Would you care to dance?" he whispered, smiling rather roguishly as he offered a hand between them.

"Most certainly, my lord. But there is no music, however shall we dance?" she looked up at him, confused.

He pulled her close again, surprising her. "I'll show you," he whispered. He moved almost as if he were swaying, gliding slowly over the smooth stone floor. She had never heard of dance steps like these, but they were surprisingly simple. He chuckled quietly, and she couldn't help but smile, though he couldn't see her face with his cheek resting against her hair.

Softly, he hummed a rhythmic tune, pausing only to say, "I do not remember much of my childhood, but this; this is forever a part of me. My mother and father loved this song."

She nodded, closing her eyes. She knew that Narnians loved music, and that from a young age they were taught to play, dance, sing, and write it, but she would not have expected the Just King to take any interest in such things. But many incidents had taken her by surprise on this venture with her guardians. That this was one of them somehow suddenly felt to be expected.

" _When they begin the beguine  
It brings back the sound of music so tender  
It brings back a night of tropical splendor  
It brings back a memory ever-green." _

He sang softly, almost in a whisper. Hadassa shivered slightly, the kind of tingle you only feel when you're completely excited or content coming over her. His voice was lovely, she thought to herself, though he surely wouldn't accept such words. He was painfully charming in this state. If only he might stay in such a gentle and benevolent temperament forever, she wished desperately, a sense of longing coming over her for this moment to never end.

 _"I'm with you once more under the stars  
And down by the shore an orchestra's playing  
And even the palms seem to be swaying  
When they begin the beguine." _

Edmund sighed, puzzling over the word as he sang it from memory. _Orchestra_. Whatever was that? He struggled to sift through his vast knowledge of assorted matters as he held Hadassa in his arms, but came up empty. Deciding somehow to let the problem pass, he smiled, closing his eyes and reliving the memory of sitting on the stairs in a place he could no longer name and watching two people he was certain had been his parents dance to this song as it played in an endless arch– at least, it was endless in his memory. Absently, he brushed his thumb over the soft skin of Hadassa's wrist, wondering if this was what his father had felt with his mother.

 _"To live it again is past all endeavor  
Except when that tune clutches my heart  
And there we are, swearing to love forever  
And promising never, ever to part." _

He shifted, looking down at her face. She straightened, looking up. He smiled, tilting his head and lightly resting his forehead against hers. If only the world apart from them did not exist. If only he could hold onto this feeling, this marvelous sensation, forever. If only, if only, he thought, inwardly scoffing and cursing in frustration mixed with slight despair. He straightened, and slowly led her through a twirl that neither Narnians nor Telmarines would execute, but people from his world might. Not with wild abandon, but with simple grace; and with more than a little passion.

 _"What moments divine, what rapture serene  
The clouds came along to disperse the joys we had tasted  
And now when I hear people curse the chance that was wasted  
I know but too well what they mean."_

Hadassa gave a small sound of surprise when he seemed to cease supporting her, almost letting her fall backwards. She reached for him, but stopped clutching his sleeves so madly when she realized he hadn't let go of her. Carefully, he righted her. His eyes sparkled teasingly as she gazed back at him, almost breathless from the adrenaline rush of being allowed to fall, though not really. "Milord?" she managed, though her voice was frustratingly breathless in her opinion. He smiled, leaning close.

"Where I came from, I believe they called that a 'dip'," he explained, pausing in the song.

"Oh." Slowly, her breathing steadied to a relaxed rhythm, and she rested her head on his shoulder, leaning in to him.

 _"So don't let them begin the beguine  
Let the love that was once a fire remain an ember  
Let it sleep like the dead desire I only remember  
When they begin the beguine." _

Why must all things turn melancholy? He suddenly understood the meaning behind the song's lyrics, and felt sorrowful. Her fingers brushed against his hair and he closed his eyes, suddenly feeling the need to hold her closer as he brought the song to its end.

 _"O yes, let them begin the beguine, make them play  
Till the stars that were there before return above you  
Till I whisper to you once more: "Darling, I love you!"  
And we suddenly know what heaven we're in  
When they begin the beguine." _

She sighed appreciatively as he leaned in at the words ' _Darling I love you._ ' She was not going to try to understand what he was implying. Instead she was going to pretend he meant every word, and just bask in his kindness. They continued to sway though he no longer sang but hummed the tune slowly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning towards him as he kissed her neck, kissed her lips, and whispered something in Narnian.

 **~|:O:|~**

He knew she had not understood, but that was how he wanted it to be. He did not want her to keep those words close to heart when things between them were forced by the world around them to change. Here, in his chambers, he could be just a man with no other cares except loving her properly. But past these walls he was king of a country, leader of a military, and adviser to the absolute monarch, his brother. Still, as he poured his emotions into another kiss, he thought of what he had said.

 _"Darling. . . I think I'm falling in love."_ Sentiment and feeling he could not afford to own to as the Just King, he thought bitterly for one moment.

 **~|:O:|~**

Peter hated to do this, but when the wandering Narnian had stumbled into his study, appearing rather secretive and mumbling about never having been in the castle before and looking for 'the Master', whom Peter quickly forced the Narnian to divulge was his brother, Edmund, he was left with no other choice. After informing the creature – a werewolf, he abruptly discovered when it shifted form – at point of sword that it would not leave until it told all, he was now possessor of some astonishing and rather ghastly information.

He walked down the passage lit dimly by a quarter moon to his brother's chambers. Peter did not usually remain up so late, but he'd had some paperwork which couldn't be cast aside any longer to work through. An unguarded thought assailed him, and he wondered for a moment if the werewolf had come to his study to take something from it. He forced the thought back, but it lingered, and he hated to concede that it was possible of his brother to do something so underhanded.

Sighing with mental exhaustion from his thoughts, he entered the short corridor to his brother's chamber door and knocked softly, but loud enough to be a disturbance. Edmund hardly slept anyway, he decided with some sharpness, so this should not be much of a bother.

 **~|:O:|~**

He jerked at the sound, as if it were a bowshot, his nerves still on edge from nearly being murdered. Cynically, he decided that one never actually recovered from their attempted assassination. Hadassa shifted in bed beside him as he rose, removing her arm from across his chest. Scowling when the knocking persisted, he dressed, pulling a loose linen shirt over his head and shrugging into a morning robe he sometimes wore on cool nights when sleep failed him. It reminded him of a rug, sometimes; from the gold patterning and the deep maroon of the thick fleece. Absently, he flecked dirt off his breeches, realizing they were the same pair he'd gone riding in.

As he tiredly walked across the space between his chamber door and his bed, he was acutely reminded of the possibly compromising situation he was in with Hadassa. Deciding that it was sufficiently dark in the room not to identify her as she slept, he jerked the door open just enough to see who stood outside it. His brow furrowed when he saw Peter.

"Peter– brother, what are you doing at my door at this hour? It must be early, even for you," he remarked pointedly, though his voice was soft from sleep.

"I thought you would not be abed, _Sire_ , considering that it seems you hardly ever sleep," Peter returned. Edmund straightened, opening the door a little more, startled at his brother's sarcasm and anger.

"What is wrong; you seem . . . disturbed. What has happened?" He instantly forgot his frustration at being woken and allowed something which sounded to him suspiciously like fear to seep into his voice.

 **~|:O:|~**

He had to admit it to himself: he was surprised to see that Edmund had been sleeping. He eyed the askance angle of the open collar of the loose shirt his brother wore, noticing the long scar even in the dark. It still startled him now, but suddenly, at seeing it, he found his anger and snarled a sharp reply to Edmund's cynical remark. And then . . . his anger almost abated. He saw concern in his brother's dark eyes and heard the fear in his tone.

"I will not speak of it here." Peter cast a guarded look into the dark round him, and turned his gaze back in time to see Edmund nod in understanding. He turned his back, letting the door open inwards more; a silent admittance into his chambers. Peter took it and followed the retreating form of his brother, carefully closing the door behind him.

"Speak softly, whatever comes," Edmund suddenly warned, almost seeming to materialize at his side in the dim light of his bedchamber.

Peter frowned, turning over the strange words in his mind as he out of habit perused the room for signs of danger. That was when he saw the woman.

In the dark, her features were unclear, but her long black hair and her sigh in her sleep were not to be ignored. His gaze traveled back to his brother, who was now standing beside his private bookshelves near his desk and chair. He'd not taken Edmund seriously when they'd talked of marriage and his brother said he took mistresses. Glancing at the bed a final time as he walked over, Peter was again struck by how little he knew of the man he ruled Narnia alongside.

"I did not believe you, when you spoke of such things," he whispered, looking at his brother's profile.

Edmund bowed his head, staring at the ground with a small smile. He looked over at Peter, dark hair falling across his forehead at a rakish angle. "You know hardly anything of me," he answered jokingly. But Peter felt sorrow blossom in his heart, hearing such a bitter conformation for his thoughts from Edmund's own lips.

"And that is what brings me here, Edmund. A werewolf came into my study tonight, excusing himself because he had not been here before, and that he was searching for 'the Master.' I forced him to tell me what he was going to tell you." His blue eyes searched his brother's face as frustration entered Edmund's brown eyes.

"What did he tell you?" His voice was hard and bitter. Unconsciously, Peter took a step back from his sibling.

"That 'they have been finished, as you ordered.'" He waited.

"He must have told you more!" Edmund whirled on his brother, taking a step closer, looking ready for blood. Peter was surprised by this reaction, and straightened to his full height.

"Also that 'Emrys has seen to the plan, and all should continue well with the scheme until you give the order for enactment,'" he admitted.

"And you forced this from him? You did not trust me well enough to simply dismiss him? Do not think – not for a single instant – that because you weaseled this information from one of my spies that it makes you privy to my plans and my knowledge!" Edmund whispered viciously. "You know nothing of the dark; nor of the skills required to be a part of it but not in it! You do not understand, so do not expect to be guided down the path to hell; if you wish to enter my world, you must find your way, for I shall not lead you!" He spat the words in a deathly low tone, turning to face his desk again.

"Why did you say that?" Peter grasped only three words firmly in that bitter tirade. And they made him feel cold.

"What?" Edmund looked back at his brother, one hand resting on his desk.

"Why did you say 'the path to hell'?" He was surprised such words bothered him more than what he had come here knowing.

"All are destined for two places after death, my brother. You know the soul is immortal as much as I. There are two paths in the afterlife: the path to heaven and the path to hell. I do not remember where I accumulated such a phrase, but the words remain with me strongly. Had it not been for Aslan, you know where my sins would have brought me, Peter; this you cannot deny."

Peter stared, uncertain of how to answer such words.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hi, I have returned! *looks carefully over battle trenches for well-aimed projectiles* Sorry I have been gone for. . . two weeks and four days. Really! Things have been busy here on the home front, and I haven't had time to write. In fact, I stayed up till 3 last night to write this chapter for ya'll! (Because it's due but also because you deserve it for reading and reviewing so faithfully.)**

 **The title of this chapter is for the melancholy of Edmund's memories, and for Hadassa's, since she knows he won't always be so kind or so content.**

 **I couldn't help it, I simply had to include some sort of memory of his parents! Honestly, I think a child's memory of watching their parents dance is one which will never be forgotten.** **I still remember when I watched my parents first dance. I think I've been trying to get them to dance like that at every wedding since, lol.**

 **So, the name of the song is " _Begin the Beguine_ " written in 1935 by American Cole Porter while on a cruise. It is one of my favorite songs from that era (yes, I admit, I love songs from the early 1900s, the 20s, 30s and 40s) and I couldn't help putting it in here. Though it's American, not British, I think that the Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie could have heard it on the radio, like my great grandparents did with a British song _they_ liked. **

**Well, I'm going to thank everyone for their favorites, follows, and reviews! We've hit 9,000 views and one hundred and six reviews, guys! I can't beleive it, and I just thank you over and over and smile all day like a complete fool. :) Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter; there's more I'm forgetting that I wanted to discuss, bit if there are any questions, I think I'll answer them in a review!**

 **Happy reading,**

 **WH**


	33. When Nightmares Are Reality

"Oh, get out!" Edmund raised his arm after silence had long lapsed, pointing to the door as he hissed the words, a hint of anguish behind the absolute frustration. Peter turned, but a faint pounding assailed his ears, and he looked back in time to watch his brother's head drop in defeat as he leaned over his desk. Fingers clenched, Edmund muttered something in the dark.

"Edmund, please, forgive my brash actions, but tell me what you're keeping secret from me. What plans wait your word of action? What does Emrys have at the ready? You have been weighed down, and I have not been blind to it," Peter whispered, darting a glance to the bed, worried of the woman overhearing something should she chance to wake.

"I told you already, Peter: leave me! I do not want you to find yourself in a dark pit of horrors without a way out. I do not think you should fare so well as I," he replied softly, a scoffing tone in his voice.

"I am not as weak as you think I am, but perhaps another night. I do not feel comfortable talking where others are present," Peter amended. Truly, he cared not if it was the dead queen of Telmar herself listening to their conversation, but it was late, and Edmund needed sleep as much as he did. Besides, Peter didn't like fighting in the dark, it made things uncomfortable.

"Her?" Edmund glanced at his bed. "She will tell nothing of this night if she is awake. And if she is not, I might ask her opinion of sharing my information with you." He laughed softly in the darkness, seeing Peter's reaction to his words in the dim light. "I would not tell her, brother, I only jest," he finally admitted, releasing his brother from his nervousness.

"Well, farewell until morning, Edmund," Peter murmured, turning to go at last, after ensuring that Edmund was only speaking in play.

"Goodnight, and sleep peacefully until the morning; I pray Aslan keeps you," Edmund answered, causing Peter to feel uncomfortable with how easily he said goodnight after all that had transpired. But nodded and left anyway, grateful to sigh with relief.

Edmund bolted the door after his brother, exhaling slowly and resting his head against the firm, unyielding wood. Finally, he felt nothing but exhaustion. Throwing the robe over his desk chair, he fell into bed, watching Hadassa sleep for a time before his eyes drifted closed.

 **~\0/\/\0/~**

 _Edmund_. . . _you're dreaming. . ._

He jerked hard on his mount's reins, looking at the forest around him. He turned his head sharply as the loud snap of a breaking branch came from his left. That was when they leapt from the brush cover. His horse reared, and he fell from the saddle. Moving a step forward and then suddenly breaking into a canter, it easily jumped a wooden barrier set up to enclose the area he'd blindly ridden into. Cursing his ignorance, he pulled his twin swords.

At first, the killing and fighting was easy. But, there were just too many and he was alone. He could not protect all sides at once. With a deft move from one of his many opponents, he was defenseless and forced to the ground on his knees. Pulling hard at the hands holding him and the chains on his wrists, he tossed tangled dark hair out his eyes as a horse and rider came into the clearing.

His captors bobbed their heads or bowed from the waist. Roughly, one man forced his head down so he was staring at the torn up earth for several seconds. Uttering a low curse in Narnian, he was quickly backhanded for it. Tasting blood in his mouth, he slowly looked up, glaring, at the new arrival.

"Narnia makes her kings too young, I am disappointed. But it will be easier to get the information I need from you." Head tilted to one side, the man watched his kneeling prisoner with interest gleaming in his dark grey eyes.

"Vézian, I cannot say I did not expect this type of stunt from you. But I have no information of value to you, unless you want to know how the war in the Northlands went or how my sister is recovering from Red Death. Yes, she survived, but then, we are blessed by a merciful god, and you're not." He couldn't help the rude words; he was angry, and when he was he usually lost control of his tongue.

Another strike was earned for his retort. As he caught his breath, trying not to gag from the blood in his mouth, Vézian spoke. "You have something you keep well-secret, and I shall have it from you even if I am forced to kill you in the process. It is not a comfortable procedure, I wager, but measures must be made and steps must be taken," the Telmarine knight declared with a shrug, as if speaking of some unfortunate riding accident.

Spitting his blood onto the ground, Edmund smiled slowly. "I have nothing Telmar would benefit from. Did my siblings and I not wish comfort to King Isshiah at the passing of his wife? Did we not visit Javona two summers past in friendship? Telmar and Narnia are not at war, but by abducting me and treating me in this way, they soon will be!" he threatened.

Ignoring the statement, Vézian motioned to some of his henchmen, shouting in Telmarine. "Bind him securely and bring him, I want to get out of these accursed lands before sundown." As the knight walked away, he stepped on Edmund's blades. Looking back as his men took the Narnian king away, he bent and retrieved one of the swords.

Running his finger lightly over the edge, he pulled it back when he saw it slice his skin smoothly. A deadly weapon. Shouting to another of his soldiers, he instructed the man to study the craftsmanship and try to have their smiths replicate something of the like for him to use in battle.

 **~|:O:|~**

"You are not helping yourself, _Sire_ , by holding back," Vézian declared, walking slowly around the chained young man.

He shuddered, closing his eyes and focusing on breathing, like Peter had told him in weapons practice. _Just breathe, forget what you're feeling, what you're thinking. Breathe, Ed._ But the pain, his mind argued. It hurt so horribly, he didn't know whether to scream or weep, it hurt. Letting the chains support him, he dropped his head, blood and sweat running together and dripping on the floor. Watching himself bleed had always been strange, but now it was surreal. Almost as if all that shouldn't – didn't – belong to him. But the pain always came to remind him it did.

"I don't know what . . . you want from me. I have told you . . . everything." His voice was hoarse from thirst, and he was again startled that it belonged to him.

A laugh rose up from the older man. "You cannot keep things secret, Edmund, though you children claiming to be monarchs try to hide information. I know, boy, I know."

 _Know what?_ He wondered, brow furrowing slightly. As he searched his memory for something to give the man that he could possibly want, a hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head so he had to look up. Staring into Vézian's eyes, he felt fear as he had only known since being the Witch's captive.

"I wish to know what plans of attack Narnia has designed for Telmar, and when," the man snarled, abruptly releasing the young man's hair and stepping back.

"There is no such plot," he answered, relieved. He was head of military strategic, so he would know. There were no plots against Telmar. He sighed in relief. But a staggering blow across the face told him otherwise.

"You lying little brat! I should have known this would be too simple. There are other ways to wring a confession from you," the Telmarine declared threateningly. With a sound of annoyance, the man stormed from the room, followed by the jailer.

Tightly wrapping his fingers around the chains shackled to his wrists, he bowed his head and wept. "Aslan, end this quickly," he begged.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 ***Again looks hesitantly over trenches for accurately-directed missiles* Hiya, everyone. I feel so horrible about being gone for _sooooooo_ long, but problems arose, ensured, and were eventually overcome (not really, but that will slide for now). **

**So, about this chapter:**

 **I realize, reading over it and the others I've had to rewrite, that I'm kinda good at graphics in writing. Like, _ahem,_ blood and torture graphics. Like pain and depression and confusion and longing-to-die graphics. I toned it down because I realized that for some people I was potentially going overboard. I don't know how any of ya'll take stuff like that, so I decided to rewrite a great majority for a younger audience. **

**I know this is random, throwing Edmund's past in here like this when I still have to clear up Count Feren and Edmund and Lucy's plan to get rid of him and a whole slew of other plot, but too far along and talking about Edmund's backstory would've been out of place (not that it's not out of place already). It should be two more chapters and then back to our regularly scheduled program, K?**

 **I know that at one point, as we transition into the past, it beings with " _Edmund. . . You're dreaming. . ._ " But what I wrote is his past, not a nightmare. His past is already too horrible, he doesn't need to imagine it any worse in sleep. Just dropping the hint now, but this is why he rarely sleeps peacefully and is so dark all the time. . . **

**Again, thanks a nonillion for the Reviews, Favorites, and Follows! They mean so much and I cannot stress that enough! :) Ya'll are amazing and the only thing some days that keeps me writing when I want to give up. Just know you're _very_ important in my life! **

**(Next chapter will be longer, I swear!)**

 **Happy weekend and reading,**

 **WH**


	34. Sleep Finds Me Not

Slowly, he woke from sleep, though how he slept at all he could not tell. He'd been dreaming about Lucy and Susan and Peter again, and water. Blessed Narnian water from her clear mountain streams. A moan of longing went through him, and despair rose. Yet, as he woke, the sensation of cool water on his face did not lessen. Lifting his head, he started, jerking back against the chains, as he opened his eyes to a face near his, a hand raised.

"Forgive me, and I beg forgiveness for my husband's actions against you. I only learnt of your presence here, great King of Narnia." The voice was soft and feminine. He was surprised, but after hearing harsh voices so long, this sound was soothing. The lantern beside her illuminated her face slightly, and he saw pale features surrounded by long brown Telmarine locks. The woman continued, "He shall anger the gods with his foolishness, but he does not see."

"Why . . ." he searched for the word, "Have you . . . come?" pain shot up his arms as he shifted, trying to move into a more relaxed position, but he kept quiet.

"My lord Vézian has not given you water to drink or food to eat or a proper cell to rest in. You have been here two months and he has only nourished you twenty-one odd days out of that sum? It is not right, not even for a captive. I am here to clean your wounds, as best as I am able, my lord King. For you are a king, and though my duty is to my husband, it is also to you, as you are of greater rank, though prisoner you may be," the woman whispered sensibly, reaching forward and tending to the cuts on his face once more.

"I . . . owe you . . . great thanks," Edmund whispered gratefully, sighing.

"Sire, you owe me nothing." She lapsed into silence, carefully tending the sores on his face. After several minutes had passed, she slowly moved back on her heels, placing her salves and cloths in a basket. "Forgive me, but I can do no more. Peace be with you as well as it can be, great King. May your god make you strong in the face of my husband's foolishness." She slowly rose to her feet and left the cell.

Watching her go without saying a word, he wondered as to the peculiarity of Telmarines. Sighing, he looked over at his left wrist, trying to think of a way to lessen the pain. As he knelt there in the dark, his mind drifted to his siblings, and he wondered how they were coping. Just as the woman had wished him peace, he prayed that Aslan would give them strength.

 **~|:O:|~**

The prison door creaked as it was opened, and his head jerked up, his black locks matted and dirty. It had been three days since Vézian had questioned him; no, three days since he'd beaten him, mocked him, ridiculed him. He watched the man enter the room, and then watched as two other men – though they looked to be around Peter's age – follow the Telmarine into the room. Dropping his head again, he stared at their feet as they moved about the cell.

"You, Edmund, have been horribly disagreeable, and I have been disappointed. I was hoping you would tell me what I needed to know about your brother's plans before he declared war on Telmar, but you haven't." Vézian sounded outraged. But his words made Edmund feel more alive than he had in days.

"The . . . High King . . . has declared war?" he asked, raising his head to find Vézian in the dim lantern light.

"Unfortunately for you, yes, he has. Now, tell me what I want to know, and things may go well with you!" the knight suddenly broke into a shout, making the two men with him jump.

"I have told you . . . I know _nothing_. Why do you not believe me?" he asked, meeting the man's eyes with unmasked desperation.

"Because I have heard great tales of your deception and cunning; The Fox, I have heard you called in my courts. For someone so brilliant, it would be no great thing to tell falsehoods to protect your country. I shall have the truth, and then I'll be finished with you," Vézian hissed threateningly.

"By all your gods and mine, I _swear_ that I do not know anything! Please, let me go back to my people and I shall not speak of what you have done. I will make peace between Narnia and Telmar. I beg you," he almost moaned, feeling tired and defeated and . . . as if he were a child. He wanted to go home, he wanted to sleep. But if he could have neither, then he wanted to be dead.

Vézian stared, expressionless. "You shall not forget this, boy. You will never forget your trickery and lies! If I must torture you until you scream for mercy, then I shall! But you will not depart until I have the truth!" the man vowed fiercely, giving him a sharp backhand before turning to the two men and roughly snatching something from one.

Coughing, Edmund spat blood, having bit his tongue. Dryly clearing his throat, he tried again. "I swear . . . I know not . . . what you speak of." By Aslan, he felt as if he were on fire! The pain. . . It was so great he was beginning to feel numb. The lashes on his back still smarted, and his wrists had begun to bleed a night ago from the heavy shackles cutting into his skin.

He gasped when a hand grabbed his hair and jerked his head back up. Breathing hard, he stared into Vézian's eyes. He felt nothing but terror when he recognized what burned behind them. He knew that look . . . the eyes of a man ready for blood.

"You lie!"

It was then, as the knight spoke, that Edmund saw what he held. He tried to pull back, terrifyingly afraid, but Vézian's grasp did not waver. "Please, I-I know nothing," he spoke hurriedly, unable to take his eyes off the blade in Vézian's hand, recalling in distant memory when someone no less evil had threatened to kill him. "I know nothing of any plot! I am master of warfare and strategy, I know nothing! I beg you, please, do not do this!" His pleadings ended in a weak whisper, and he shied away from the Telmarine's hand as it moved upwards.

"I beg you!"

The two men standing in the corner heard the desperate scream and shuddered. The younger man began moving forward, whispering under his breath about injustice and the wrath of the gods. But his brother stopped him. "No, if you try to do what I know you're thinking, we shall be no better than dead," he whispered quickly, holding the younger man fast.

"But this is wrong; you can hear it in the boy's voice! He begs, and yet our master does _nothing_! This prince or king is innocent, and our lord ignores his cries!"

"Be silent and think no more of injustice. We can do nothing for him, _nothing_ , do you understand? Be grateful it is not you in the boy's place."

"By Cirique, I wish I was," the younger man answered bitterly, fists clenched tight as the prisoner's screams echoed endlessly.

 **~|:O:|~**

He groaned, and his fingers trembled from the pain. He breathed in and out raggedly, struggling not to scream even now. How long had he been here? He had lost count since. . . He shuddered, trying not to look at the slowly healing scars. He stopped begging now, and just screamed; it was easier, easier to let the pain out then contain it; easier since Vézian had done _it_ the first time. He felt hot and cold, and knew he was becoming ill. It had happened to him before, when he'd fought with . . . what's . . . he'd forgotten the name . . . Peter . . . in the Westlands.

He felt in a hazy mist, with pain turning it a red color all around. . . He stiffened when he heard the cell door groan open, but could not remain rigid for long. His fingers began clenching and unclenching in reflex as he struggled to keep down his cries of agony. And then . . . a woman's voice. He looked up, but was too feverish to discern truly who was in the cell, or if it was the same woman of the last time. She was not alone, but he stopped pondering it as black entered his vision and he fell into unconsciousness.

 **~|:O:|~**

"I know you are gravely ill, oh king, but you must ride to Narnia. I have given you my horse, Vaduri, to ride. He has been to Narnia and the east before; he knows the way. May Elonna guide you on your journey and return you to your people."

He looked at her from atop the horse she spoke of, questioning how she had taken him from the prison underground to the stables of Vézian's manor. He nodded slightly, but groaned at the pain that shot through him. The woman uttered something in her language, pressed her lips to the beast's nose, and then slapped the horse on his rump, urging him out the stable doorway. As the unshod hooves clattered dully over the hard-packed earth, a servant emerged from the shadows.

"Milady, you have a kind heart. I fear it is too kind. Our Lord will not be pleased." The man watched the horse and rider until the dark night swallowed them.

"I pray the damnation of the gods be upon my husband for what he has done, for the sin he has heaped upon this house. And I pray that the king I have set free returns safe home. That is all I care for, Daavin; that is all." The woman pulled up the hood of her cloak and parted ways with the servant. For a long while, Daavin stood there, recalling in his memory the cries of the man he had helped set free. In his heart, too, he prayed the gods gave the boy peace.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **** _This is a bonus chapter because I've been gone so long but also because it's Easter_ ** **

**All right, this is shorted because I cut out quite a bit of graphic stuff. S** **ooooooo** **not as long as I promised. I just think that I don't need to go that dark because everyone understands that Edmund's been basically abused both psychologically and physically. This is basically the reason he's *a little* messed up relationship-with-people-wise.**

 **Fever from infection can cause black-outs, short bursts of amnesia, shivering, hot-cold sensations, lack of energy, pain (duh), and, probably if left untreated, eventual death. So, yeah, currently Edmund is very, very ill.**

 **All right, by now everyone has probably guessed that the woman who tended to Edmund's wounds and helped him escape was the wife of the now-dead (yet still kinda major) antagonist of this story. Her name was Lady Marcelina; she was the second wife of Vézian and is the mother of Hadassa.**

 **(Vézian's first wife died without having any children; his second wife was considerably younger than he was and gave birth to Hadassa a week short of a year into their marriage. Marcelina died a year and a half after Edmund escaped.)**

 **And for everyone who wondered: yes, Hadassa is a lot like her mother, but is her own person! Please, she's not one of those typical like-the-mother-the-daughter-wilt-be girls. Hadassa is very much her own person and really only warmed to the Narnians because of Edmund.**

 **In my AU, Elonna is a Telmarine goddess; the goddess of good fortune and luck. Cirique is almost literally her opposite. Saying her name [Cirique's] is like uttering a curse or swearing. Saying " _may Elonna guide you_ " is the Telmarine equivalent of Narnia's " _between Aslan's paws_ ". There are other gods and goddesses, but these are the only ones to come to light so far; there will be others though.**

 **When I wrote Edmund remembering someone who tried to kill him, I'm referencing the books where the Witch was ready to kill him because he was useless to her (not actually what was going to happen, but I can't remember it exactly right now at 4:00 a.m.).**

 **By the way, now ya'll _truly know_ why Edmund doesn't use the words "I beg you". **

**Thanks for all your Reviews, Follows, and Favorites: know again that they're basically my equivalent to the sun, moon, and stars right now. (At least that's how I measure my love of them :))**

* * *

 **Guest Reviewer:**

 **I'm really glad you liked this and think that putting Edmund's backstory in now is not awkward; also, thanks for the review! :) When guest reviewers review, it makes my day!**

* * *

 **Happy reading and happy Easter everyone!**

 **WH**


	35. And I Am Haunted

Edmund tightened his fingers in the dark horse's mane, trying to keep from falling off the cantering animal. Nickering softly, it slowed, and he could hear as if from a great ways away the sound of running water. Lifting his head with a low moan, he opened his eyes. In his feverish haze, he could hardly discern details, but it looked to be the Great River. He was somewhere near Beruna, then. Gingerly, because of the pain from the still-healing lashes across his shoulders, he patted the stallion's neck.

They had been riding for five days, if he had been counting accurately. He did not think he was, though. It was dark again, so he was forced to trust the mount the woman had given him in Telmar to take him home. He prayed disjointedly, unable to think straight from sickness, that he was found by Narnians instead of Telmarines.

"Well done, boy," he whispered hoarsely, struggling to keep from blacking out by focusing on the water the stallion was carefully stepping through. Nickering again, the horse gently bobbed its head before clattering the rest of the way across and up the grassy bank. With an energetic snort, the stallion moved into a canter and headed into the forest. Edmund didn't know that the horse had just crossed a tributary of the Great River; they were only five miles from Cair Paravel.

 **~|:O:|~**

He became more conscience when he heard his mount's hooves on cobblestone and felt the change of turf from grass to streets. He looked up in time to see two guards, their spears and bare swords shining dimly in the firelight of the torches on the citadel walls. He eyed them with great unease, which passed to the horse so that it began sidestepping nervously as he slowed it to a halt. In the past months Edmund had grown to associate weaponry of any kind with immense pain; now was no different.

Spurring the horse onward, it galloped past the guards, who could only stare at the figure of their missing king in disbelief. The two Centaurs, a Faun, and a Dwarf, shared confused, surprised glances. That had been the face of their king, but something was not well with him. He had looked . . . afraid of them. Wondering when they might hear news from the palace, they waited at their posts, gazing out into the night.

 **~|:O:|~**

"I do not care what Isshiah says! We will not stop looking for King Edmund even if it means we must burn down every Telmarine village in your kingdom!" Peter shouted angrily, staring at the messenger sent from King Isshiah's courts. He was outraged. Five, almost six, months had gone by since his brother was assailed during his daily ride in the Western Woods by a band of men looking more Telmarine in appearance than outlaws or brigands. Peter hardly slept, and could barely eat, with his brother missing.

Susan, who sat on his left, was pale from lack of sleep herself, and looked thunderously beautiful. A vengeful goddess, she knew many bards and minstrels would sing long after this day had fallen into history. Lucy was still on her throne, her hands just visibly trembling on her marble armrests. She practiced daily on the training grounds, and Peter hated to see her spirit fading from fear for her brother's life. If they did not have terms from the Telmarine king soon, the country would be obliterated in the search for their royal brother. They would find him, even if it meant overturning the world in their wake.

"But you must see that going to war with Telmar is wrong; that trade with your neighboring country would be much more . . . _beneficial_ for all of Narnia? Think of the profits, of the finery; of the fabrics from far-off islands and the jewels for your necklaces and bracelets, great Queens!" the envoy coaxed, turning to the women because he believed them weaker targets.

"Silence, fool! We shall not do business with a land that trades the bodies of men and women for furs and treasure! Or have you forgotten that Narnia is rich in mining and pelts both? The finest fabrics are ours to do with as we wish; islands deep in the Eastern Ocean are under our domain! One more word of smooth lies and trickery from your tongue and I shall cut it out!" Susan stood, her hand slowly reaching for the concealed dagger in her skirts. Lucy, also, had begun fingering her dagger at her sister's words.

"I understand that you grieve; it is well to grieve, so say the poets," the envoy declared with a respectful bow, though he somehow appeared patronizing to the three Narnian monarchs.

"We _are_ grieving, a fact you do well to keep in mind," Susan answered threateningly, her voice iron-hard and leeched of all emotion or feeling. "Remember that I may smite the head you bear off your very shoulders; I daresay it will be welcome relief to your body." She murmured the words carefully, head tilted to one side as she had often seen Edmund do in Court with these ruffians. A pleased smile came to her red lips when she noticed that her brother's tactic worked wonders on the envoy's countenance. He seemed less confidant in his words and more fearing for his life.

"Truly not, great Highness; I should like to keep my head a short while longer, I pray; it would be most inconvenient to my king were I to lose it," the man replied hurriedly.

"Would your king even lament long your departure? I swear all his subjects are more loyal to him than he is to all of you," Peter observed critically. "Sheep for the slaughter, I have seen in my time." Around the great throne room, heads nodded in accord with their king's words.

"Fodder for the flame are those poor, poor peasants. If I liked them, and they in turn showed some little affection for us, I would then be inclined to pity their mean estate. As it is, I care little what becomes of them," Lucy muttered under her breath in agreement, showing uncharacteristic lack of sympathy for suffering. Gradually, as her siblings conversed more with the envoy, Lucy lowered her chin onto her hand.

"I _do wish_ Eddie were here; he is much better dealing with these scoundrels than we are," Susan admitted in a hushed tone, looking over to her brother and sister as the Telmarine began unrolling another scroll with yet another plan for terms with Telmar and King Isshiah.

 **~|:O:|~**

He felt as if he were on fire; the world blurred before him, and he stumbled down the hall as two Centaur guards closed the great entry doors of the palace behind him. Tripping over the fine carpets under his boots, he reached out and found support from a large white marble column; while he grasped it, he struggled to regain his balance. He _longed_ to sleep, but something told him it was imperative he speak to someone here before he did. Inhaling raggedly, Edmund pushed himself away from the column and stumbled toward two great wooden doors, on the other side of which loud voices could be heard.

Unsteadily he put all his strength into opening them. Gasping briefly at the pain that flashed up his arms and into his shoulders and down his back, he applied more force to the doors, sensing distractedly that he'd reopened several wounds. When the doors finally gave way, he practically fell headlong into the vaulted room. Almost running to keep his balance, he quickly wheeled back from a Faun with a sword who was staring at him. A low sound of pain and unease escaped him as he fled further into the room to get away from the weapons.

And then, someone shouted, and he stilled.

 **~|:O:|~**

Peter stood, ready to address the envoy again, when he notice a commotion near the doors. A frown slowly coming to his face, he tried to make out what was going on, but it only looked as if someone was discreetly coming in– well, discreetly from this distance. Focusing his attentions back on the Telmarine, he continued his sentence.

"We do not need aid from Telmar against the Giants of the Northlands. We do not need Telmarine flotillas to guard our ships as they sail from port here to Galma, Calormen, Terebinthia, the Seven Isles, or to the Lone Islands. We wish you return to us our royal brother, King Edmund. That is all. If you can at least procure his _body_ , we might be persuaded to consider treaty terms. Until then, leave us!" His voice rose thunderous, and the expressions of his sisters' faces accentuated his words. Hastily, the man bowed and almost dashed out a side door to be escorted to the quarters he'd been given.

Slowly, with a tired sigh, Peter passed a hand over his face and nearly collapsed onto his throne. Glancing at the Court, he bolted upright, coming to his feet faster than he had in months. He thought he'd seen Edmund's face in amongst the Narnians'. Perhaps he was going mad. Less than a fortnight ago he had nearly convinced himself that he'd seen Edmund on the beach. Yesterday morn he'd imagined that his brother had come to see him, but that had been another dream too. Now here was another apparition created by his mind of his missing brother's form.

"Edmund! Eddie, oh, Ed!" The scream from his sister tore through him, electrifying him down to his very fingertips. He looked over at Lucy, and her eyes glowed with excitement and relief. Instantly, Peter knew he was not alone in seeing Edmund, and he felt a sense of calm. But that feeling was quickly replaced with urgency, and before his sisters could move toward their brother, Peter leapt down the steps and practically ran to him– rather unkingly, but Peter was beyond such things now. His brother was home at _last_.

"Edmund, we had begun to suppose that you were dead," he declared, lifting a hand toward his brother in relief. But before he could walk a step closer, the dark haired young man jerked backward with a cry of fear that riveted Peter to the place he stood. And that was when he truly saw Edmund. He paled under his tan and his blue eyes glassed over with horror and shock.

The hands Edmund held up as he unsteadily walked backwards were streaked with something darker and thicker than dust or dirt. As the younger king stared at Peter warily, his long hair absolutely disheveled and matted with something that was _not_ only tangles from lack of upkeep, nausea welled in Peter's stomach at all the blood. There was just so much, and it had come from _Edmund_. Then he felt unbridled rage. Who had done this to his brother, a king of Narnia? The person responsible would pay dearly with their life.

"Who has done this to you?" Peter whispered, finding that his voice failed him and threatened to break from anguish.

"I do not _know_ what you want, I swear to Aslan I don't!" Edmund cried out in an almost crazed tone, his shoulders shaking from exhaustion and fever as his countenance crumbled. Peter instantly collected his scattered thoughts as he saw Lucy and Susan hurry towards them out of the corner of his eye. He held his arms out before his body and tried to approach his brother like he'd done only yesterday with his stallion when the horse had spooked.

"Please, Edmund, you're ill, let me help you," he begged softly, noticing Oreius coming up behind the younger king in silence, nodding at Peter when the High King realized what the Centaur general was going to do.

"Lies! Deceit; how dare you promise me something close to relief! I do not believe such falsehoods any longer!" Edmund took another wildly unsteady pace back, brown eyes wide; filled with distrust and hate.

"Edmund, it is your brother; I am Peter. I would _never_ hurt you," Peter whispered, feeling that, with every step and word Edmund took or spoke, his heart was breaking further. What sort of person could do something like this to another? As Peter tried to come closer, Oreius caught Edmund in his arms, holding him carefully but securely. Edmund fought it, shouting something, but in his weakened state he did not offer resistance against the Centaur long.

Lucy and Susan hurried over when Peter finally beckoned them to come closer. Lucy, ignoring Edmund's words strung together in meaningless ramblings, brought her hand to her brother's forehead, and then lightly encircled his wrist with her fingers, checking his pulse. When fresh blood came back on her palm after she took her hand away, she looked to Peter.

"He is not well, brother. We must act quickly," she turned to Oreius, "General, please take him to his chambers, and see that he's put in clean clothes while I fetch some things from the infirmary. I must use my cordial, Peter, or we shall not have a Just King for much longer," she informed her oldest brother while leveling an unyielding and even gaze on him. They would use the cordial, for this was a dire circumstance.

"Do you think I would gamble with our brother's life? Do whatever you must!" Peter replied readily, looking back at Edmund, who was now slumped in a deliriously fevered state in the Centaur's arms. Susan and Lucy gathered their skirts and followed behind Oreius, several Narnians in tow to assist their queens.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hello everyone, and I deeply apologize for not having updated in so long! But, life has been busy, and I have been feeling rather lazy on the writing end of things. . . I have no idea why; beleive you me, it's bothering me to no end, but I think it means that I need to take a step back and find the reason I began writing in the first place. . . again.**

 **For those of you who are new to this: I took a long break during the second installment of the Star Cycle (and I'm still sorta on that hiatus *weak lol*). Don't worry, I'll still update on this story! Though, much slower. Also, I've noticed some inconsistencies with this story that I want to rewrite! So I think I'll take a few days or so and go back through, edit these past chapters, and then eventually resume my writing of the story.**

 **So, on to the chapter after that important message to all you readers: in the coming chapter will be the close of this flashback of Edmund's past. Then it's on to the present and all that that entails! ;) I truly hope that I'm not boring everyone and dragging stuff out for no reason (but I'm a detailed person and like to have everything written out in black and white when I write it)!**

 **Thanks for all your support, Favorites, Follows, and Reviews! They mean a lot to me when I wonder what's the point of writing. I hope everyone knows that I just love ya'll for taking time to read my story and comment or what-not on it! :) And special thanks to Eosneve (formerly Fiordineve) for being Number 1 on the support squad for this story!**

 **I hope everyone has had a good week thus far, and that such blessing (or luck, whichever you prefer) continues until the end of the week.**

 **Happy reading,**

 **WH**


	36. The Burden of Bitter Truths

He inhaled sharply, his eyes flying open. But he stilled, feeling Hadassa's hand on his chest, her head beneath his chin. Sighing softly, he lifted his hand from his side, covering hers, while thinking of his nightmare. They always worsened when he knew he should speak with his siblings but withheld information. He studied the constellations in his canopy, allowing his mind to drift on an endless tide.

He shifted slightly, and Hadassa curled her body closer to him, reminding him of the night before, when his brother had seen her. How long would it be before Peter discovered that the woman in his bed was not some mere woman from Calormen or the Isles? Finally, as the ocean winds picked up and began to billow his curtains, he had reached a conclusion.

As he rose, she woke. He looked at her until her eyes turned down, which frustrated him slightly. He stood and left the room to change, knowing he had a mere two hours to study the papers on his desk and make his way to the courtroom. Peter was in no mood to attempt another lenient morning. When he returned, she was slowly lacing her dress, and again he could not help but approve of the Narnian gown instead of those Telmarine styles.

He walked up behind Hadassa, removing the laces from her fingers, remembering when he was younger and Lucy would remove her gown to collect seashells and play in the surf in her white chemise to prevent ruining the beautiful dresses she wore. Lucy had always begged him to help her lace it back up when they had to return to Cair in the late afternoons, and he'd always grudgingly complied, knowing he would be in for a scolding if he didn't help.

But this was . . . not the same. He closed his eyes as he finished the simple task, enjoying the contact and nearness of her. When had he become so base? His mind ridiculed him sharply for his fancies of love and perhaps even a happy lifestyle. He was not deserving of such things; he had banned himself from them the day he entered Narnia and spoke foolishly to the Witch. Sorrow filled him, and he knew what he must do this night, if Hadassa dared come to him again without his bidding. He could not allow her to continue this. Not as they were, not as he was.

Edmund knew that though he was dark and shadowed, his honor rose above the shattered fragments of his soul. He would control himself or kill himself, there could be no middle ground; no easy lies that would become hopelessly tangled in the end of this.

He pulled himself away from her, trying not to think of the way her hair smelled, or how small she was compared to him. "You are finished; go now before someone discovers you are not where you should be." He feigned disinterest, but before he could silence them, the words tumbled from his tongue without warning. "Can you find your way well enough in the dark?"

She turned almost hesitantly to look back at him, and he read shock in her eyes. He scoffed quietly. She displayed what he felt. "Yes, milord, I can return to my chambers easily enough." She moved to the tapestry on the wall, and though he thought of it, he did not take his eyes from her. But she stopped, and glanced at him again.

"What is it?" He asked the words out of habit, less from annoyance.

"Do. . . Should I return tonight?" A blush slowly colored her neck, touching her cheeks in a manner he thought attractive. "Forgive me if I am too brazen!" she added, looking terrified for a moment before her expression calmed.

He sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of his kingship and his sins upon his shoulders. "If you will, I care little. But if it is your desire, then you may return." He motioned for her to go, and moved to his desk. Only once he heard the tapestry fall back, and the hidden door behind it close, did he drop the parchments he had pretended to read, resting his arms upon the desk and dropping his head into his hands. He could not understand his emotions, and felt disquieted by such realization.

 **~|:O:|~**

The Just King clasped Count Feren's hand as they stood outside at the top of the stairs, seeing him off. Apparently there had been a riot in Windmere, and Lune sent a messenger at once to call him to his estates to lay it down peaceably. It was a terrible pity, though the Just King seemed to be reining in an expression of mirth, and the Valiant Queen smiled brightly when the Count was speaking with Queen Susan and then to High King Peter. As Feren turned to descend the stairs where his mount awaited him below, Edmund shared a glance with Lucy. Clearly, Cor and Aravis had kept their promise, and the plantings of their rather large prank were coming to bear fruit.

"It is a terrible pity to see him depart; I was just beginning to find some interest in his company. _Not_ that it was very intriguing from the start," Edmund remarked dryly, only glancing at his youngest sister for a fleeting moment before turning away.

"And I thought he was beginning to fancy you, sister," Lucy jested playfully, coming and placing her arm through Susan's as they walked abreast back into Cair Paravel.

"I think it should be a certain breed of man who will truly fancy me, Sunflower. For I do not enjoy them all; most bore me, to tell an honest truth," Susan returned almost absently, lifting her eyes to gaze at the blue Eastern Ocean for but a moment before returning her focus to the marble tiles beneath her slippers.

"What? The Gentle Queen decrying true love? And I believed you were its most ardent and loyal supporter! What has become of you?" Lucy teased, though inwardly she worried. When had Susan become so despondent about love? This was not like her, and the Valiant Queen was becoming worried that the lack of men willing to love Susan for herself was beginning to crush to her eldest sister's dreams.

"Love, dearest, is not all it is written and sung of. Often it is sacrificing everything for something small and insignificant. I believe if I do not find a good man I shall soon declare I am married to Narnia, and that no one but my people and my country and my royal siblings shall ever hold my heart." Susan gently parted herself from Lucy at the door near where Edmund stood. He listened to her words, and took them fully to heart. Lucy glanced to him, but he met her gaze for but a moment, before rapidly departing as Peter entered, the High King having stayed at the top of the stairs until Feren exited the gates.

"Well, what have I missed?" Peter watched both his dark-haired siblings depart, perplexity written upon his every feature. Lucy sighed, suddenly finding the world too tiresome and she too tired to face it any longer.

"I am going to rest, fair brother. And what you missed is something I do not fully understand myself. But as far as I _can_ perceive the matter, it is because one thinks herself unable to have love and the other believes he is incapable of it. Or perhaps he considers himself _undeserving_ of it. Either way, it is a vast and complex situation; clearly not something to be discussed and dismissed in a mere instant. I shall be with you for the mid-day meal." Lucy left to her chambers, leaving the High King very much alone and confused in the middle of the hall.

"I must talk with Susan, then. Edmund can wait a little longer, for I have seen what he thinks of love," Peter murmured to himself, moving toward the way Susan had gone down.

 **~|:O:|~**

It was a middling day, he decided as he made his way to his chambers. Emrys had discussed with him the methods they would use to remove Ninvialazar on his return journey to Telmar, and the Tigress was pleased with his removal of Count Feren from court, though she did remark upon the fact that it was rare for him to have the aid of his sister now-a-days. The only thing he had not done was speak with Heshlotte, though he decided the snake could wait until morning. There had been some dancing that evening, but it was more for entertainment's sake than a true ball. However, Susan informed him before he departed to his chambers that in six days there _would_ be a true ball.

Now, though, his mind was not bothered by balls or serpents or plots. It was harassed by what he was to tell Hadassa when she returned. Selfish fears set in, and he attempted to convince himself that to not tell her what he had done would be better. But in the end his sense overran his desires, and he knew he could not go on without honesty towards the Telmarine lady. He sat up at his desk for many hours, knowing she would not come until well after the castle had gone to sleep. But he was grateful for this respite, as it gave him time to mull over his words and just how he would tell her.

At last, he was shaken from his thoughts by the swish of the heavy tapestry and the entrance of Hadassa. She wore the Narnian dress once more, and he admired it on her for a moment before suppressing his sentiments. He stood as she entered the room, looking uncertain.

"Milady, please, sit," he murmured before she could speak, directing her to the bed as he slowly began walking the length of his bedchamber. He was dooming himself, he felt certain. She would never speak or look to him again, and she would surely loathe him for all of this life and well into eternity. But he had always known his sins were great, and had long ago resigned himself to such harsh truths.

"I feel this foolishness has gone between us long enough. I cannot let it continue. You must know me truly," he whispered the last words, turning back to her and continuing his slow pacing. He hoped it hid his unease, though nothing could hide the unconscious fisting of his right hand at the memories he brought to the fore of his mind.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa watched him, fear mounting in her heart. This day had gone on so sweetly, why must it end so dismally? She hated the way he walked back and forth before her, like some caged panther uneasily searching for an escape. His words sent a chill down her spine. What had he done that he believed she must know it? He was a king, she nothing more than a lady-in-waiting! How could anything of his past be hers to know? Tightly she clasped her hands in her lap, drawing her legs beneath her. Edmund had fallen silent, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he continued.

 **~|:O:|~**

He dared a glance at her, and his eyes betrayed him, though he was not aware of it. They gave way to the fact that he was afraid, and that he was uncertain. Finally, he found his voice. "You asked of me, not long ago, how I gained my scars. Before that you questioned my adamant hate of your people and your country, though more yourself than the others. I evaded your queries, believing myself above you and the questions themselves too base for my concern." He stopped moving, staring off at the balcony.

"I was terribly incorrect. I have wronged you, Hadassa, and I cannot lie further." He turned to her. "It was your father who tortured me and held me prisoner, questioning me night and day about my plans to destroy Telmar. It was Vézian who slowly bled the life from me and the strength to fight back. He took a young man full of life and returned him void of love. I was consumed by hate, once I was well enough to stand without seeing two of all that surrounded me," he said, his voice filled with anguish.

"I have written, and hidden, reams of parchment covered with my thoughts from those days, and I tell you now they are the blackest things I have yet to scribe. When your father held me hostage, he destroyed my soul. I was already shattering, and he utterly laid me low!" He stopped sharply, ending his words in a snarl of hate. "He took what I had, and turned it into dust. He beat me until I could not stand, and when I could not stand he chained me to the ceiling so that he could apply the lash. When I could beg him to stop no more from my pain, he gave me a single night's respite! And then, as if I had not suffered enough, he took a dagger to my skin and swore I should not forget him as I screamed for his mercy!"

"No . . . no. . . Not my father. . . He was a harsh man, cold, but he would not do what you say! You are lying, it cannot be true!" Hadassa rose from her seat. She felt denial and anger, bound up in loyalty to her father's memory. Truly, he had not been the kindest of fathers, but he had never struck her or beat her; he had been gentle to her, though she was not the son he had long coveted.

Edmund turned sharply. "You did not know him as I did. He scarred me so I might never forget, and I cannot. He spoke truth in those nights, tormenting me. I have never been so ready to die since I fought with my siblings at Beruna against the Witch. I asked and pleaded for it on the nights he did not come. I cried out for Aslan, but it seemed in that hell he could not hear me. But . . . perhaps he did, for a woman sometimes came to me, and spoke gently. But I have not finished my tale yet," he concluded, exhaling sharply, trying to bury his rage.

Hadassa wanted to deny him again, to refute his words, but she held silent, waiting. Fear made her hands tremble, so she reached out and held tightly to the bedpost, trying to slow her fiercely pounding heart.

"Narnia and Telmar entered into war. We battled long and arduously until it began to feel as if the war should never come to an end. And then . . . it was as if all the gods, from all religions, had seen fit to bless me," he paused, swallowing and gathering courage to finish. "I crossed blades with Vézian in the midst of battle. I gazed into his eyes, and he knew me— he knew all my scars and all my anguish. So I took a dagger to his heart and as he lay grasping its hilt, I took his own blade and pinned him to the earth, letting him feel for but a moment the pain I had endured for days I cared not to count." He closed his eyes, realizing he had fisted his hands tightly as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"You _murdered_ my . . . father?" Her voice broke in a sob, and her tone held shock. "He was perhaps not a kind man, but he was my father, and I loved him . . . He was my _father_! If not for his boyhood friendship with my king, I would be nothing more than a serving girl or a slave! I would have been as good as dead . . . because of _you_ and your unquenchable longing for his blood!" Edmund turned to her, watching the tears fall down her face as she stood there.

He had never felt so hopelessly broken before, he thought. He had never felt so alone. The loathing in her voice struck him like a spear to the heart, and he was silent, knowing her feelings towards him, though perhaps biased by childish memories, were right. He was not something to be loved, he was unlovable. He was wiser than many, but nothing more. Now she knew it, and would not come near him again, he was certain.

"You . . . you let me love you when you knew all this about my parentage. . . You are cruel! What my people say about you in court is true, utterly and completely! You are black and dark and a deceiver! You enjoy your tricks and causing pain when it earns you something you want. I cannot go back from what I have done with you, and you knew this! I have been ruined by you. . . I believed you to care, somehow, for me. I truly am young and naïve!" She ran at him and attempted to lash out with her hands, like a child against a parent when they are told something they cannot bear, but he held her wrists and she came to a trembling stop, drawing back from him and his touch quickly.

"I am nothing more than what I have been fashioned into. A sword cannot sow wheat or a fire water crops. Perhaps now, though I am despised wholly, you see why I bear such contempt for your people and your king. Why I tried to hold myself far from you. But the world conspired against me, and thus I stand here, finding myself capable of a woman's love that I do not deserve— a woman who now hates me because of what I am. You will leave me, I know. But know when you do, I shall be irreparable. I shall spurn love forever, and darkness rule my soul utterly. Fear me then, for I will show no mercy toward you or your country." He spoke softly, his strength spent.

Hadassa inhaled a trembling breath, looking at him— once again nothing more than a man lost amidst a world that did not help him. A man unable to overcome his own demons because a small part of him preferred them over peace. Had he fallen in love with her? Could someone such as he truly _love_ anything? He made it out as though she could mend him, but she laughed softly at such a thought. It was what she had believed in the beginning, though after a time she began to feel it would be impossible. Now she knew it truly was.

He moved to his desk, dropping into the chair, exhausted. He had no strength left. He felt utterly laid low.

"I will not ruin you; I shall leave you in peace, Hadassa. Please, take your leave if you have no more words to rail against me. And if you wish to, strike, for perhaps it shall remind me of reality's grim fate. I cannot love, and I was foolish to try." He closed his eyes at his words and rested his head against his hand, his thoughts dizzying him. Sleep. . . A retched sigh escaped him. It would not find him now. Perhaps never again. . .

* * *

 **A/N: *Looks carefully over the edge of the metaphorical ditch for angry readers holding rotten fruit and vegetables, not to mention more explosive projectiles***

 **Well, it's been far too long since I posted a chapter on this story! *nervous laughter* I'm so sorry, and I hope you all can forgive me! I hope you enjoy it, and I promise I'll attempt to get another chapter out to continue this one as soon as I can. *side-eyes this chapter* I'm not so sure what I don't like about this. . . but I don't especially like this chapter. I think it's too forced. (That is the reason why I haven't been writing it, I just can't seem to get it _right.)_ I don't like the way Edmund tells Hadassa, I don't like the way she reacts (it's all better in my mind's eye, but for some reason I'm having a problem transferring what I see into words), and I just generally don't like the way I wrote this chapter.**

 **But all my discontent aside, there's a lot going on in this chapter! I think my favorite part is where Feren leaves, and the conversation between Lucy and Susan, and Lucy's brief discourse with Peter regarding Edmund and Susan's views about their personal opinions on love. I always believed that Edmund and Susan were similar in that respect.  
** **Anyway, please tell me what ya'll think! And tell me how you view this chapter; warning, I might rewrite it and post the revised version at the same time as I post the next chapter (whenever that will be next).**

 **Happy reading!**

 **WH**


	37. In the Morning Light

Hadassa watched as the King seemed to collapse into his chair behind his desk, and for a moment pity caught hold of her, but anger and bitterness rapidly rose to overcome it, reminding her of all he had done. She stepped away from the bed, as if hoping that by going back she could somehow reverse what had taken place, as if the action could erase the words that had been uttered. But nothing would, and she felt terrified as everything she had allowed this man to let her do with him assailed her thoughts. Efrain could lawfully sentence her to death for this. . . A soft cry escaped her lips, causing the king to lift his head. She met his eyes for but a moment before hers widened in denial and confusion and she turned to leave.

As she entered her chambers and fell trembling to her bed, Edmund's words whispered in her mind, sounding ominous and threatening— as she supposed he intended them to. " _You will leave me, I know. But know when you do, I shall be irreparable. I shall spurn love forever, and darkness rule my soul utterly. Fear me then, for I will show no mercy toward you or your country."_

She found herself longing for his comfort, in spite of everything. A broken scream shattered the quiet of her chambers, and she stood, throwing a silver candlestick beside the bed across the room. With a crash it struck the mirror of the dressing table, and she fell to the floor, her sobs echoing wretchedly in the elegant Narnian rooms. How could she have been so blind to the king's hate, even in the face of all her countrymen had told her and all she knew?

 **~|:O:|~**

Peter lifted his head from the papers he had brought to the personal dining table where the Four ate when they did not wish to mingle with their guests so early in the morning. The door to the room had opened, and Edmund entered. Peter looked back to the documents he had been given about Galmian trade for the coming month. Currently the Duke was offering to send some strange creature to the court which he claimed none in Narnia had ever beheld: miniature horses. The High King thought it a frivolous waste, but was still debating upon how to tell such an inelegant opinion to Duke Hines in an elegant manner. He had been silently debating with himself on whether or not to employ Edmund to the task. As he lifted the parchment to shift to one from King Lune, a missive about coming up to the king's mountain fortress for the autumnal stag hunts, all his papers were suddenly scattered across the floor, and Peter found himself staring directly into Edmund's face.

"Be not so serious this morning, for I feel less inclined to deal with matters of state. Come hunt with me— I dare you to endure it!" Peter stared at his brother, inhaling sharply. Edmund's ebony hair was uncombed and looked windblown, as if he had spent the night on the beaches. His attire was silver and black, and his eyes burned with something Peter could not entirely determine. It seemed a mix between utter anguish, deadly hate, and unbridled madness. The High King leaned back in his seat, keeping his thoughtful, though surprised, blue gaze steadily upon his brother.

Finally, he allowed his focus to slip downward, to his now-scattered papers. "What has brought about this sudden love for hunting and utter thoughtlessness for our guests?" Peter queried calmly, hoping he might keep Edmund here until Susan and Lucy arrived.

"Why must we speak of love for anything? What good has it brought any man?" The vehement hate for the tender emotion took Peter aback, and he stiffened at the other king's tone. "I dare you to hunt with me and my stags; you have not come in nearly a decade! Come, put down your great title O High King Peter, the Magnificent one!" Mockery leached dangerously through Edmund's voice, and he finished his statement with a dangerous smile.

At the words, Peter stood, but Edmund did not lose ground, refusing to step back. "What troubles you, brother?" the older man asked not unkindly, trying ardently to rein in his utter indignation at his brother's carefully masked spite.

"Am I troubled?" Edmund playacted deep thought for a moment, "Perhaps I am the finest I have ever been! I have grown impatient to return to my ordinary routines, nothing more. Why is it that when I desire to come back into old habits there must be _something the matter with me?"_ he questioned with a snarl. "Why is it you only worry over _me,_ brother? Is it because you think me dangerous? _Is it_?" He was very nearly shouting, and Peter unconsciously lowered his hand to the dagger at his side.

"Silence, Edmund, I will hunt with you!" The Just King seemed to start at the imperious, deadly tone of his brother; his entire body went rigid with surprise and unease as he studied the man across from him. But his tone of voice did nothing to soothe Edmund's mood; the younger king only smiled coldly in a way that made Peter's heart sore to see.

"I shall be expecting you then, my king," he replied almost too appreciatively, giving a bow Peter felt was done only to rile his easily-goaded temper. With those words, Edmund left the room. As he exited, Susan and Lucy were entering, and they stared after their brother in concern before turning their eyes to Peter.

The High King sighed, bending to pick up the papers on the floor. Wearily, he said, "Edmund is troubled, and I do not believe he has slept at all. He desires me to hunt with him, and I have acquiesced."

The queens gasped at his admittance. "Peter, have a care! We cannot have him do anything foolish— not while the Telmarines are with us." Susan reached out to her brother where he stood holding the papers he had regathered in a messy sheaf. She rested her hand on his arm, concern easily discernible on her features.

"You do not think he will invite Count Efrain or the Baron?" Lucy almost seemed hesitant to voice the question. But her sister and brother turned to look at her, undisguised horror written clearly on their faces.

"Oh, Aslan, do not let it happen!" Susan breathed. Peter nearly ran from the room in search of Edmund.

 **~|:O:|~**

The sound of Maria moving softly to clean up the broken glass came to Hadassa's ears as she woke the following morning. She had fallen asleep on her bed fully dressed, too exhausted to slip into a nightgown after crying until she had no more tears left. The maid stood, and the young women's eyes met. Instantly Maria knew something was dreadfully wrong. Carefully setting the dustpan down and leaning the straw broom against the wall, she hurried to her lady and friend's side, coming to sit on the edge of the bed as Hadassa slipped her legs over the side.

"So the Narnian has brought it to an end, then?" Maria whispered almost imperceptibly. But the girl heard, and she nodded, clapping a hand over her mouth as the sobs threatened again. Hadassa's shoulders trembled, and the maid quickly wrapped her arms about the young woman, shushing her gently and offering solace in her presence.

"Oh, Maria, th-the aw-awful things h-he said!" Her voice nearly rose into a wail, but she managed to force it down.

"Did I not try to warn you, dear friend? Men are strange, but kings are unkind. . . I knew it should end no other way than this. I am sorry it was so, however— for your sake," the maid murmured, rubbing Hadassa's shoulders soothingly as she spoke. "Perhaps you should rest for the day, milady. I will tell the Count and Countess you are unwell, and send a note to the servants to inform them that you will not be down at all today and will have your meals here. In this way you do not have to see him, at least until you are more composed," Maria suggested.

"T-thank you, Maria, I-I would like that," Hadassa whispered in agreement.

With that, the maid helped her undress and put on a nightgown before getting back to bed. Maria finished clearing away the broken glass and then quietly left the room, taking the spare key she had requested some time before from the Red Dwarf chamberlain and locking the door behind herself.

 **~|:O:|~**

Edmund stood saddling Night, having coldly brushed off the Faun stable hand to care for his mount himself. He sighed, grasping a fistful of the black stallion's mane as he rested his head on the horse's withers. His heart was betraying him and his mind was railing at him. He had tossed and turned all the night long, and finally, when he could fool himself no more, he left his bed to pace in the Great Library; researching archaic spells and reading of the early Narnian and Archish monarchies. After that he had taken to his study where he drank several glassfuls of wine until the dawn. Following the rising of the sun he roamed mindlessly until he found himself standing before the Four Thrones. His memory of the coronation assailed him until he hated the sight of the great hall, and a longing to hunt with the Black Stags overwhelmed him. As he made his way to the stables, a thought came to him, so he went to seek Peter out, a mad desire to test his brother's leniency refusing to dissipate. Once he had goaded the High King into joining him, he fled to the stables.

 _"You expected no less of her. . . You knew once you spoke of your past that it would be ended. You cannot be loved, fool_ — _you are undeserving of such a kindness!"_ his mind reprimanded, and a quiet moan escaped him. Uneasily Night shifted on the spot he stood, and Edmund lifted his head off the horse. He began to almost nervously fiddle with the stallion's trappings, and such was how Peter found him, gazing mindlessly out a stable window, fingers restlessly roaming over the saddle buckles.

Slowly Peter approached his brother, but Edmund didn't stir. When he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, however, Edmund flinched away, whirling. The High King was not remiss in noticing his brother's unsteady breathing and pale countenance.

"What occupies your mind, Edmund, and why do you not seek to tell me of it?" Peter asked softly. In answer, Edmund gave him a cold stare.

"I cannot tell you of what I think, for I _do believe_ it would undo your mind," he replied with great unkindness. Hurt flitted through Peter's eyes, but it passed. Stepping back, he turned to fetch his own mount, noticing with relief that the place was empty save for them. It was apparent that Edmund, in his unstable state of mind, had surprisingly not seen fit to invite some of their guests on this gruesome adventure, and for that, Peter was terribly grateful to the point of feeling guilty in his relief.

"Where do you plan on hunting today, and for how long shall we be gone?" he inquired calmly, as if they were partaking of a regular outing. He looked over the back of Fire, his bay stallion, as he spoke, before he threw the saddle over his mount's back and carefully situated it before doing the buckles.

"I do not expect to be absent the whole day, for we cannot stay out very long. . . If I recollect, Susan has declared there to be a feast tonight for the arriving Lone Island company?" Edmund began backing Night and turning him toward the large double doors. Peter quickly followed.

"Yes, I remember her telling me something of that last night." In truth, the High King had forgotten about the party to be arriving that afternoon, and he was grateful now he had broached the question, else he would never have remembered and Susan would have scolded him for his absent-mindedness while he readied himself at the last moment.

"As to where we shall hunt. . . I have not decided yet." Edmund presented his brother with a chilling smile as they mounted up. Before Peter could offer suggestions, Edmund spurred his large black mount into a gallop and the High King was left to once again follow hurriedly. Edmund was attempting to escape his emotions and his troubles, but Peter only assumed he was trying to escape the Telmarines.

The hunt would be a grueling affair, and when they returned Edmund's mood only became darker.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Now I know this is short, but it means I'll be posting another chapter soon after! Seriously, I can only write this when I'm really inspired. I attempted to add more on this chapter, but it just seemed tacky and overboard. So I'm calling this chapter an "emotional filler" because that's exactly what it is. It's showing Hadassa and Edmund reacting emotionally to what transpired in chapter 36. Out of them all, though, Edmund's was the funnest for me to write. I know that sounds weird, but I'll explain:**

 **Hadassa is nervous and thinking of how hard it's going to be for her to get on with her life while not letting her guardians know anything. She's basically doing what I figure a lot of women would do in her position: thinking about every outcome both positive and negative. I really had a struggle writing her for some reason. I think it's because I know her character, but I identify much less with her. So I felt that I was generally running in circles every time I wrote about her feelings (which is why I stopped. I hate killing the mood by overusing something to the point of boredom).**

 **Edmund on the other hand is so amazing for me to write, because he's older, has a deeper set of emotions he's learned how to conceal well, and has this very dark side. He doesn't think he should have allowed this to carry on with Hadassa, but while his logical side tells him this is all his life will ever be and he deserves nothing less, his more emotional side is telling him that it _is_ possible for him to be happy and he _has_ a chance with Hadassa. He thinks better than she does, I suppose. Not to mention I just really wanted some Edmund &Peter after so much EdmundAlone and Edmund/Hadassa. I like Peter's viewpoint because he's this outsider looking at Edmund and knows nothing of all the internal struggles; he's only able to guess what's bothering his brother**— **he has nothing definitive to go on.**

 **Now I would like to heartily thank everyone for the reviews of the last chapter: Wow, I am in awe of your support and your enthusiasm for this story! I can honestly say that I've come very close to walking away from this fanfic entirely, but your responses to each new chapter wins me over to the completion of this story every time. I thought chapter 36 wasn't as good as it could be, but you have changed my mind with your uplifting and encouraging reviews. I don't know how long we've got to go until the second installment, but I just gotta say that I feel incredibly honored to have such great readers as you guys!**

 **Happy reading and I hope you guys all have a wonderful week,**

 **WH**


	38. Nightmares & Madness of a King

Susan and Lucy were inclined to go after Edmund also, but they knew their duty lay in tending to their guests, so they sat down to breakfast and tried to calm their unsettled hearts. As the Gentle Queen reached for a plate of honeyed rolls, her eyes met Lucy's above the bread; the Valiant Queen lived up to her title and presented her sister with a brave, faux-cheerful smile and little nod. Words did not need to be said. If anyone could possibly hope to tame Edmund's dark temper it would be Peter. Sometimes all the younger king needed was a companion who ensured he did not do injury to himself or to others, be the wound verbal or physical.

"I was going over the schedules this morning, and I do believe we could have a little ball two evenings hence at the latest. The Islanders have arrived, our Telmarine guests are here, and fortunately for us Cor and Aravis are returning on the morrow. Hopefully they can lift the somber mood hereabouts." Susan made small talk as she paid strict attention to the light buttering of her roll.

"Oh, they are?" Lucy exclaimed excitedly, her grey eyes lighting up at the prospect.

Susan smiled amiably and nodded, glancing at her for a moment before looking back to her self-appointed task. "Yes. They mentioned in their letter that they stayed with us too briefly on their past visit; I can only imagine Aravis complained of the climate at Anvard and Cor all to happily complied with her." The queen moved to take a spoonful of marmalade jam before plucking some red grapes and eating them. Whenever the Crown Prince of Archenland and the Lady Aravis came down to Narnia Susan enjoyed playing matchmaker to them, though they did not know it.

"Well, before he left, Cor mentioned something to me of practicing swordplay with Edmund; _that_ could be why he desires to return. I only hope Edmund will be in better spirits before then— I should hate for anything to happen between them, they're such good friends. Well, as good a pair of friends as they could be under the circumstances." Lucy began peeling a hard-boiled egg for herself.

"Yes, I hope the same. If only Aslan would come to us this year. He has been gone ever so long! The longer he is away the stronger the feeling stirs within my heart that something is changing. I do not enjoy this sensation," Susan remarked softly, a troubled light coming into her eyes. At her words Lucy's face became slightly downcast, and she grew thoughtfully grave.

"Nor I, sister. Here now I must admit," Lucy paused, uncertainty causing her to shift in her seat and divert her gaze from Susan's. Her voice was soft as she went on, "I dreamt of him once this past fortnight, in the woods as how he and I walked when I was a girl, but he says nothing. He looks at me long, but then turns away and the forest grows dark, the trees cease to dance, and the birds do not sing. I know naught what it means. I have been yearning to bring it before Edmund, but the time is never right or he is always in a mood," the Valiant Queen murmured, plucking distractedly at the napkin beside her breakfast plate.

"I fear it has something to do with the Telmarines we have invited, for I have not slept so well since their arrival. Perhaps Aslan is warning us we seek ill company by playing host to them. But let us speak on these strange and troublesome topics no more, at least not without Peter here to alleviate our distress. I tend to magnify small troubles, and my attitude only serves to dampen your merriment; we cannot have that!" Susan laughed softly, coaxing a smile from her little sister.

"No, surely we cannot," Lucy replied as she lifted her fork, her cheer slowly coming back. The Gentle Queen watched Lucy thoughtfully for a moment, before returning to her own meal.

 **~|:O:|~**

Peter saw his brother with different eyes that day. He was forced to watch in mute terror as the Just King mercilessly hunted a werewolf; apparently it had once sworn fealty to him and then gone back on its oath. With careful stratagem he ordered the Black Stags about, and galloped his mount until lather frothed white on it's muscled neck. The creature managed to evade them, and in anger Edmund ordered the Stags to flush something, anything, from the woods; which they were all too eager to do, Peter thought. While the monarchs waited, resting their mounts on a small knoll beside a drying bourn, the High King wracked his mind for ways to draw answers from his brother about this foul mood of his.

There had been silence between them for some time, and the blond king could take it no longer. "Have you chanced to speak with Baron Ninvialazaar? He is interested in discussing politics and court with you. I believe he is awed by your judicial skill." Peter fidgeted with the reins he held, lifting one hand to rub his beard absently, as he tended to do when he was uncomfortable.

"No. I fear I shall insult him if I try to converse with him. I have not been civil enough of late to attempt useless conversation about chattel and Telmar," the Just King replied curtly, his voice low with an unintelligible emotion as he watched the edge of the forest, waiting for his Stags to reappear.

"Surely you have sp—"

"Peter, do not do this. I am as liable to snarl at you as I am to do so to the Baron. Test my patience and I will hurt you. I am not very inclined to quiet wrath today. . . In fact I very much wish to make something suffer, which I know is unlike me," Edmund interrupted in an ominous tone, not even glancing in his brother's direction. The High King was taken aback, and his shock was clearly written across his tanned face.

A Stag suddenly broke the treeline, and Edmund leaned forward in his saddle expectantly. All at once there was a rush of movement, and nine ebony deer leapt from the woods, while before them a large panther ran, yowling and screaming. Without another glance in Peter's direction, Edmund rode off. The High King watched the Stags nimbly dance around the dumb creature as it tried to escape. The king and his hunters cantered near the treeline, playing with their victim, and Peter was hesitant to join them. Before he could blink, the swirling black mass of deer, rider, and game erupted. Five werewolves jumped out from the trees and down upon the king, knocking Edmund off his horse, causing the animal to shy in fear.

Spurring his stallion into action and unsheathing Rhindon, Peter galloped to them. As he hastily dismounted, throwing Fire's reins over the creature's neck so it wouldn't trip over them, he glanced at his brother, who had brought out his twin blades and fought with his usual flowing grace. Another werewolf charged from the underbrush, and before Peter could guard himself, Edmund moved in front of him, efficiently decapitating it. When next the High King could look over at his brother, Edmund's cloak was torn from the claws of a werewolf and his cheek bloodied from when he'd fallen off Night. Yet he never wavered.

At last, Peter finished off two of the creatures. Dazedly he turned to Edmund six feet away. Just as he looked, however, his brother drove his blade through a fallen werewolf's arm and it keened with pain. "Why?" the younger man whispered fiercely, his dark eyes wild. The dog-like being whimpered, but did not speak. "Does swearing your fealty to me mean _nothing?"_ Edmund shouted bitterly, and Peter flinched at the injured tone. "Tell me before I cut your arm off your body and feed it to you!" With his words the king took his second sword and drew the point over the creature's chest until a scarlet line trailed after it.

"Loyalty!" the werewolf moaned hoarsely. "Servitude!" For Edmund that was not enough. With a sigh as if correcting a student, he pushed the second blade deeper into the creature's skin until it howled. "Long may the queen reign. . . !" it cried suddenly, fear in it's wide silver eyes.

"She is dead, I am your king!" Edmund snarled viciously. He brought his first sword up and smoothly dropped it down, running it through the werewolf. Shoulder's bent, dark hair tumbling into his face, he looked wildly toward the forest. "I am your king, do you hear? The Witch is dead— _**I am your king!**_ " His voice echoed into the trees, and all the Black Stags flicked their ears to listen.

Peter stared, and for the first time he wondered just what his brother had done to gain the respect of the Witch's followers. Roughly the king drew his sword out of the dead body, and it came up coated with red. Peter was a man of war, and had fought many battles, but something about this made his stomach turn. Perhaps it was the almost reverent way Edmund took up his cloak and carefully cleaned his weapons before sheathing them, or maybe it was the way the Black Stags solemnly took up the bodies of the werewolves on their antlers and disappeared into Darkening Wood. He couldn't be sure. When his brother turned and met his gaze, though, he knew why he felt ill in spirit and downcast in heart.

Edmund's eyes were haunted and filled with unspeakable suffering. The High King had never seen such an expression of grief in his brother's eyes before. He moved to offer solace, but the younger king sharply lifted his hand, halting any advances.

"I desire no comfort. I need no soothing. Leave me be," he whispered savagely, and Peter stepped back when Edmund stared at him, the threat of death burning in his dark eyes. "Clean your sword and mount your horse, my King, for we return to Cair Paravel. Susan shall be expecting us." Edmund whistled sharply, and Night came sidestepping to him, tossing his head and snorting nervously. With a kind hand the Dark King soothed his stallion before mounting up. Peter collected Fire and rode after Edmund. He sighed dejectedly. He hadn't helped with Edmund's mood at all, and it seemed the surprise attack from the werewolves only served to make his brother worse.

 **~|:O:|~**

Hadassa moved quietly from the hall to the stairs leading down to the large halls of Cair Paravel. Coronilla and Efrain had sent a message with Maria, when the maid returned with a breakfast tray, declaring their intentions to keep to their rooms or perhaps go to the gardens for the afternoon. She knew they were discussing political matters and Coronilla's health. Though the prospect of remaining in bed for the entire day was appealing, Hadassa didn't want the king to mistake her absence for revulsion or cowardice. She had thought over his words while she ate breakfast, and later lunch, and knew she needed to speak to him again, now that her emotions were better controlled and she knew what to expect. She still despised him, and couldn't believe what he had done, but she knew he needed to be given a better chance to explain his motives and reasons.

Thus Hadassa had come down against Maria's better judgement to meander through the main halls, if only for a short while. She had yet to be stopped by any Narnians, so she assumed that she wasn't breaking any etiquette rules by exploring a bit.

Suddenly a massive door slammed below her. She looked down over the marble banister to the imposing oaken doors as footsteps resounded in the large vaulted room. She froze just as Edmund did, the echo of his footsteps fading into silence. Their eyes met. He looked as if he was suffering, and she felt pity for him. As she fought against rushing down the remaining stairs to comfort him and beg for another chance to hear his tale, the moment was broken by the door opening with a growl and harried steps echoing loudly— almost rudely. The Just King broke eye contact with her and whirled to the newcomer in a single fluid motion.

High King Peter walked at a brusque pace to where Edmund stood stiffly in the middle of the marble expanse, his tall figure imposing.

"Edmund!"

Hadassa had never heard a man speak so imploringly to another, and she felt embarrassed to be witnessing this interaction between brothers.

"Get out!" Edmund hissed, long fingers fisted at his sides in the folds of his cloak, which, upon closer inspection of his person, Hadassa noticed was torn irreparably into ragged strips from the shoulder almost to the hem. It looked as if it had been slashed with . . . _claws._

"Edmund, please— _please listen to me,_ brother!" The High King took cautious steps closer to the younger man, hands outstretched in serf-like supplication. Hadassa pressed herself tight against a marble pillar on the great staircase, where it turned to meet the floor of the hall, hoping the blond king wouldn't see her.

"I don't want to speak to you, I don't need your pity, I only want you out of my presence! How is this too much to ask of you? I brought you on a hunt with me, you have had time with my person, can we not say that is enough?" the Just King snarled, though Hadassa heard the pleading and the exhaustion behind his words. He resorted to anger when he was tired like a wounded creature resorted to ferocity.

" _He does not want to fight_ ," she knew, wishing she could scream her thoughts at the High King if that would make him understand, _"can't you simply leave him alone? He is in pain, and you are only feeding his rage and his nightmares by pursuing him as if he is an animal!"_

"No, we cannot. I saw your face, Edmund, I saw how you looked; why can we not speak of that? Why do you not share your thoughts with me, to free you of this burden you carry silently? It is not yours to bear alone, and we are both kings— do not tell me your burdens are so different from mine, for I know they are not!" the High King answered, his deep voice altogether too loud in the hall.

"Why must you pester me ceaselessly? Why must you act as if you are so _like_ me?" Edmund took a step closer to his brother, and Hadassa covered her mouth tightly with her hand to keep her scream to herself. The Just King looked exactly as he had on the night he questioned if she could bear his pain. "I am not—" he broke off, turning his head away for a moment, _"capable_ of what you so long to see in me, Peter. I don't think I ever was. Please, leave before I say words I do not mean but that cannot be revoked— I cannot bear your tireless hounding!"

"But you _are_ capable, Edmund, _you are!_ Aslan would not have bought back your life if you weren't, don't you know that?" Peter looked at his brother beseechingly, as if by sheer will alone he could force the other king into believing what he believed. A strange sound came from Edmund, and Hadassa was confused until she knew— she had made similar sounds after she'd fled his chambers. The dark-haired king looked up, and tears were falling from his eyes.

"You cannot understand what I endure! It is madness— the insanity that is my very being is barely held at bay! I cannot sleep. . . You will never know what it is like to long for something as insignificant as _sleep._ . . you could not possibly fathom how sweet a dreamless lumber is until it is denied you! I cannot ever be drunk enough to put it from my mind . . . my thoughts. . . I want to scream to every _god who can hear_ that I am in _agony!"_ With his words Edmund's voice rose to a desperate pitch, and he grasped his hair in his fingers, head bowed as he shouted out, "I want it to stop, to stop, do you hear? But it never does! Always, I hear her or them or something so demonic I tremble at it's nameless voice and stand broken before it's awful presence. . ." a strange cry escaped him. "You hear my words and yet do not understand them at all; you cannot comprehend this darkness even when I scream out to you from its hellish void. . . I scream every night and no one hears, do you know what that is like?" He screamed bitterly now, lifting his head to look at his brother.

Tears fell down Hadassa's face, and her heart ached to witness this pain.

"You can say nothing in the face of this horror, don't you see? Nothing from you will ever be enough for me." A cruel, bitter expression came over Edmund's tear-stained face, and he straightened to his full height once again. A cold and imperious man in a selfish world unable to understand that such a nature was what kept him alive. "So why. Don't. You. Just. Run." He smiled dangerously, and Peter had good cause to look afraid.

"You are my brother, and I love you. . . . I will never stop," the other man replied simply, his voice breaking. "You can overcome this, Edmund. Don— don't stop fighting, whatever happens." The High King turned to go, and Hadassa fled.

She couldn't bear to stand there another minute, knowing that the High King would leave and Edmund might turn and lash out at her. She didn't want to think on what might happen, so she ran. Down corridors and up stairs. Until she found herself in front of a long hall, open on either side to let in the ocean air. The Telmarine girl gathered her skirt and petticoats in her hands and dashed down the length of it, her tears drying as she ran. When she reached the opposite side, she stopped, reaching out and resting a hand on a large marble pillar, brushing locks of her hair out of her face. She trembled, and tears threatened to fall again.

Sighing she turned to lean back on the cool marble, feeling it's firmness against her back.

Hadassa stayed there until she regained a semblance of composure. Slowly she made her way back to her room, and by the time she arrived at her door, it was dinnertime. Maria came in not long after to prepare her for the last meal of the day, and as the maid fixed the young woman's hair, told her Queen Susan had given the guests notice that a ball would be held in two days. As Maria returned the gown her mistress wore earlier in the day to the wardrobe, Hadassa stared blankly at her own reflection in the dressing table mirror.

How could she look at Edmund again, having overheard from him what she had? Her heart was torn between fear and something she could not understand. . . something she could not name.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I'm ba-ack! I got chills writing this chapter. . . I think from Edmund's dialogue. This chapter was somewhat easy for me to write as well as excruciatingly hard.** **I struggled with trying to make this werewolf encounter different from the one with Lucy (actually, this surprise attack was a surprise to me as much as to Edmund and Peter. . . it sorta just threw itself in there and I couldn't tear it out even when I tried) but it's also somewhat similar, since they're [the werewolves/werecreatures] connected to a deeper plot which comes to light in the second story *sorry, not giving you guys any spoilers, I'm afraid* I initially didn't want this "face-off" between Edmund and Peter with Hadassa overhearing to happen until later in the story, but I realized that this was actually a perfect spot for it to occur. (Before anyone starts to worry: No, no one overheard this argument besides Hadassa, which is. . . darn lucky, if you ask me!)**

 **Try to imagine the hall Hadassa runs down like the one in Cinderella III that Anastasia sings on (you know, the animated Disney movie where Cinderella almost loses Prince Charming to her stepsister Anastasia. Aside: I was really impressed with the fact that they never addressed Prince Charming with a name throughout that entire movie).**

 **Anyway, now there's a ball coming, Edmund's the lowest he's been since this whole thing began, Hadassa's confused about what to feel, the Islanders are here, and Cor and Aravis are returning, yay! (I really love Cor &Aravis, can you tell? I didn't get to have them long enough in that one chapter, so I'm bringing them back! :)) My, I really do like making this a bucket of feels and a whopper of an emotional roller-coaster, don't I? But I do so love it! *rubs hands together gleefully* Fun stuff ahead (or heartbreaking, however ya'll view it!)**

 **I thank each and every one of you for your darling reviews, I love you all to pieces and this story would not be what it is without any of you! I'm so glad you are enjoying this, as wild as it is!**

 **Happy reading!**

 **WH**

 _ **!**_ _ **WARNING, CHAPTER 39 MAY BE A TRIGGER FOR PEOPLE SUFFERING FROM DEPRESSION**_ ** _¡_** ** _¡ _**_**(I'm doing this just in case, so no one sinks into a dangerous low.)**_


	39. The King's Prayer

He moaned in exhaustion and desperation, raking a hand through his hair until it caught on tangles, aching dully as he dragged his fingers through them. He hadn't slept in three days. . . not since the night before he'd told Hadassa the truth; the night he traded a woman's affection for abhorrence. It had been two days since he'd argued with his brother, and Peter had not spoken to him since. Nor had Susan or Lucy for that matter. He closed his eyes, longing for sleep. But again he saw Peter's face, the fear in his brother's eyes. . . and it gave him nothing but disquiet.

"No!" he cried, frustration and resentment filling him. He jerked up from the bed, tripping and stumbling as he disentangled his legs from the bedclothes. "No I do not want to dwell upon it any longer. . . Aslan, let me _die_ . . . or sleep, just _sleep._ . ." he whispered, but his mind taunted him, mocked, and jeered. Thoughts whirled in a myriad, and he was so confused.

Anger welled up above everything else, and he dashed the papers off his desk, pausing briefly to watch ink spill across the floor. "I do all you might ask! I desire to be a just and merciful judge, an equitable ruler, a worthy monarch, yet you give me no peace!" he ranted savagely, moving to the rack of weaponry against the wall. Wildly he tore a hunting spear from it, only to turn and hurl it with all his strength at a tapestry across the room. It hit the wall sharply, embedding itself firmly into the wood and stonework.

"' _The just king!_ ' people cry adoringly, but cower in fear as I pass by! ' _The righteous judge_ ' they declare me, yet show no mercy in their opinions of my soul, of my character! How can I _not_ be this monster they have fashioned me into from their vivid imaginings? Perhaps it would be better to conform than to be cast out!" Brutally he hurled a second and third spear, panting from exertion and rage.

"I am alone in all the world. . . without another who could possibly comprehend my insanity! Why have you done this to me? Am I to be nothing more than a form of a man, driven mad with voices in my head and memories I wish I could forget forevermore?" He clenched his teeth, hissing the words bitterly. "I see nightmares, so a nightmare I am to become, is this what you chose to be my punishment?" With the last of his energy he flung a broadsword toward the wall, but fell to his knees as he threw it, legs unsteady, and the weapon missed its intended mark.

Wearily he bowed low until his forehead touched the cold flagstones, his hands fisted on either side of him, and lay still for a time.

Then he spoke, his voice a worn murmur, "I am so tired, Aslan. . . I lie spent, yet I cannot attain rest. I am weary, my lord. . . and worn out. I seek peace with all of my being, and yet it so ruthlessly evades my grasp. I toss and I turn, but quietness of slumber does not fall over my soul. I long after your grace, but find it not. How can I live when you are not with me? I lift my voice against you, but what are mere words spoken rashly compared to your unfathomable greatness? Forgive me, O my lord. . . I speak without hearing, and think without thought. I am nothing but dust beneath your feet. . . unworthy ashes beneath your claws. Yet somehow you value my tarnished soul, and have granted me life when I deserve death. All night I lie in turmoil, and darkness wars in my heart. I cry to you in my distress, but you do not hear; I plead for your mercy, but you do not answer. O, Aslan. . . If it be your wish I will go on as I am, but if it be by your will, let me enter the rest I so earnestly seek!"

He closed his eyes, feeling tears on his lashes and their cold trail down his face. Why did Aslan not hear him? His fingers curled tighter until they ached, and at last he was forced to unfist them. Resting his head in his hands he wept, though his mind continued to cry out.

"Edmund?" A whisper, tentative, reached out toward him in the darkness. The voice was soft, but in his pain he knew it not. Instead of a reply, he moaned. He did not want to hear things, he did not want to think. He only wanted to sleep.

"O please, Aslan, give me rest!" he cried, his voice torn and ragged.

"Shh, shh. . . do not speak anymore, my king." Gentle fingers combed through his dark hair, soothing in their repetition. He sighed. "Come, to bed. . . you will sleep well this night," the voice murmured an enticing promise he was too doubtful to believe. He looked up, but in the darkness could see only a shadow against a multitude of deeper shadows, for the lamp he lit had long ago blown out.

"I cannot. . . I will never sleep . . . it is my punishment for all the wrong I have done," he whispered brokenly to himself, for he still believed he was alone. A hand came to rest on his face, and he unconsciously leant into the caress.

"Come nevertheless. I shall not leave you until you have been lost to a dreamless slumber." The hand lifted from his cheek, trailing down his arm until it clasped his own hand and tugged encouragingly. As if bewitched, he followed, guided by this shadow that seemed a light against all his darkness.

He lay staring with exhaustion into the blackness, beyond which he knew his canopy rose, and all at once someone lay beside him, fingers running through his hair, fingers clasping his, warmth from their body warming his. He did not understand and he did not try. Only, he no longer felt so at war with himself, and he breathed easier knowing this temporary respite.

At last he slept.

 **~|:O:|~**

She had seen him but twice since that day on the stairway, and knew he was ill in spirit, if not physically ill. It showed in his eyes. They were expressive and dark when he was weary, and she knew he was tired. It gave her little peace, until at last she could stand it no more, and decided she would go to him, and request him to tell her again his story. So that perhaps she could understand, and better instruct her emotions on what to feel for this man. But when she went to the king's chambers, they were bathed in darkness. She had stood uncertain, and had almost left when she heard him. She listened as he poured out his soul. She had thought him incapable of true feeling, but to hear him speak now. . . she knew just how shattered he was.

Anger kindled in her heart at his god, this _great_ _Aslan_ who did not seem to hear the prayers of his most loyal follower. How could a god spoken of with such awe and adoration be so cruel? And then, when Edmund fell silent, and his weeping reached her ears, she knew she couldn't leave him, as conflicted as she felt.

So instead she went to him, knelt before him, and tried with all her heart to sooth his inner turmoil. She could not understand how someone could hate as Edmund so clearly hated himself, but she tried, for his sake. She tried to reach out into his pain and understand the different fragments of his soul. From hearing his argument with the High King, she knew no other could comprehend, so she felt she must _try._

Even if she be the only one, she would still try.

For she felt that nothing, not slave nor servant nor noble nor king deserved to live in suffering alone, without someone beside them to remind them that they were of value. It seemed, to her, that Edmund had forgotten his value, and that so many loved him, in spite of his forgiven sins. As she pressed herself against him, offering her warmth to his coldness, she realized she had forgiven him, though she did not understand fully why he had done as he had. She stroked his unruly hair back from his face, hoping that he could sense her peace even if he did not know from whence it came, or why. And then she laid her head down on his shoulder, listening to his even breathing in the stillness of the night.

"Peace, beloved king. . . for you _are_ loved, though you seem to see it so little. Goodnight," she whispered, knowing he slept now. She stayed a little while, until dawn began to creep over the horizon. She did not feel tired, though she was, and she only watched him as the light became stronger. Gently she pulled away from him, but before she left she kissed his brow and wished him a better day than those before.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I know this is short, but I feel that this is kind of a "deep" chapter, and that to add anything more would only make it overwhelming. At least, it would be overwhelming for me to write such continuously strong emotions such as these. This was draining as it is. I know that may sound strange, but writing severely depressed/dark!Edmund takes _so much_ from me. Sometimes (this chapter, for instance) I feel as if I'm removing small fragments of my soul and molding them into Edmund's words, because his words are my thoughts and his emotions are my heart. When I pour out Edmund in moments like these, it's almost like pouring out _me._ Which is strangely disconcerting, because I'm giving you readers more of me than anyone I know has been given. Sort of how Edmund can speak to Hadassa but he can't speak to his siblings. (In other words, you guys get to see a side of me no one knows, which I don't know if I like yet. . .)**

 **The title of this chapter is from what Edmund says to Aslan when he's kneeling on the floor. It is, in every sense, a prayer. If you take out all the nouns that make it "Narnian" it becomes sort of a genaric prayer that any suffering person might pray. Rather similar to one I prayed a long time ago in the middle of a very low point in life, actually (mine was far less elegant, and not spoken to Aslan, but I'm sure you all understand).**

 **Anyway, this chapter was intense, and I hope you enjoyed it, as brief as it was. To anyone who might be wondering: No, their argument is still not resolved. Hadassa may have forgiven Edmund in this chapter, but her heart is still troubled deeply, and to fix that, they need to talk face-to-face. _Without_ getting all emotional. We'll see what happens. . .**

 ** _Note as of 11/26/17:_ _I wrote this awhile ago, before I'd posted chapter 38. I'm not feeling so down anymore, don't worry! Also, I'm going to respond to all the amazing reviews for chapter 38 as soon as I can. . . I've been struggling to get over a really horrid cold, which is why I've sorta been out of the loop in updating this as regularly as I promised. I'm writing chapter 40 as you read this, though! :) I hope everyone had a great weekend and that everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving had a great one!_ **

**Thanks for all the favorites, follows and reviews; you guys are so amazing and I'm so glad you've been enjoying this story as long as you have! Happy reading,**

 **WH**


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